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diff --git a/old/52910-0.txt b/old/52910-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 76cdfac..0000000 --- a/old/52910-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14288 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pansy's Sunday Book, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Pansy's Sunday Book - -Author: Various - -Editor: Pansy - Isabella Alden - -Release Date: August 28, 2016 [EBook #52910] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PANSY'S SUNDAY BOOK *** - - - - -Produced by Emmy, MWS 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] - - - - - PANSY’S - - SUNDAY BOOK - - BY - - FAMOUS AMERICAN WRITERS - - [Illustration] - - _FULLY ILLUSTRATED_ - - - BOSTON - LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1886, by D. LOTHROP & CO. - COPYRIGHT, 1888, 1893, by D. LOTHROP COMPANY. - COPYRIGHT, 1895, by LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY. - - _All rights reserved._ - - - J. J. Arakelyan, Printer, Boston. - - - - -[Illustration: IN LATE NOVEMBER.] - - - - -A STORY TO REMEMBER, IN NOVEMBER. - - - IF you’ll sit on my knee - As still as a stone, - And listen to me - While we’re all alone— - While the wind whistles cold, - And the snow falls so fast, - While the young and the old - Feel the chill of the blast— - I will tell you about - A poor little lad - Who now, without doubt, - Is smiling and glad. - - - (_His picture._) - - Brown and curly his head, - Bright blue was his eye, - His feet bare and red, - His look rather shy; - His face, somewhat soiled, - Unfamiliar with soap, - Was thin, while there curled - In his neck, like a rope, - - Certain locks which had grown, - Unhindered by shears - That he never had known, - You would think, all his years; - His shirt was a sight, - You may think, to behold, - Through which shone the light - Unblushingly bold. - - His trousers, in shreds, - His legs dangled round, - Long needing the threads - Which they never had found; - While his cap—what was left - Of the original pattern— - Of all shape was bereft, - And looked like a slattern. - - Such, such was the creature - Who stood in the door; - In dress, form and feature— - Nothing less, nothing more. - May you love this, my lad - From the slums of the city; - Not think him all bad, - But regard him with pity. - - - (_The name._) - - Though nameless he stood - Clad in rags in that door, - Whether evil or good, - He is nameless no more. - We’ll call him hereafter, - If you make no objection, - In tears—or in laughter, - On further reflection— - Thomas Tinker, all told, - But “Tommy” for short, - Until he grows old— - Perhaps then, when in sport. - - But I’ll tell you I think, sir, - Before saying more, - This is not the “Tom Tinker” - You’ve heard of before, - But another, whose fame - Is as worthy of mention - As the first of his name - Who claimed your attention. - - - (_The story._) - - We will trace him as we may, on his way - From that doorstep, where at play on that day; - We will see just how he earned - That for which his young heart yearned, - How from good he firmly turned not astray. - - Selling papers he began, little man, - Then on errands often ran, like a “van”; - Then his matches he would sell, - Blacking boots the while, as well; - And with cheerful voice would tell all his plan. - - Tried his courage was, I’m told; nor condoled - By humanity, which rolled, with its gold, - On its laughing, rushing way, - Like a crowd of boys at play, - Or a flock of sheep astray from the fold. - - But his heart was brave and true, and he knew - That to flinch would never do; so say you? - Thus he bravely bore his part - With a true and loyal heart, - Never doubting from the start; “tried and true.” - - The days seemed often long; but his song - Rang brave and strong; just the song - Of the wares he had to sell; - Of the news they had to tell— - Good and bad alike as well, for the throng. - - And he worked, and worked away, every day, - With his heart as light and gay, as the May; - And he did his level best, late and early; - Never grumbling, never sad, and never surly; - With a smile ’neath his golden head and curly, as at play. - - So he fought the fiends of hunger and of cold, true as gold; - Like a veteran tried and bold, I am told, - Was this soldier in life’s battle - ’Mid the daily hum and rattle; - Driven forth like sheep or cattle, to be sold. - - Many brave fall by the way, every day; - Some survive, their country’s stay; well they may; - But of all the rank and file - Grandly marching up the aisle - Of stern duty, all the while, who can say - - Which the most deserve the name, writ in fame? - Those who fell ’mid shot and flame, on land or main, - Or those who in obscurer strife - Have given heart, and soul, and life - For husband ill, for child, or wife, in duty “tame”? - - Well, Tommy stood, sturdy and grave—no slave— - His soul had what we well might crave; no knave - Was he; but faithful in the daily fight, - Cheerful, happy, eager, bright— - A nineteenth century valiant knight, youthful, brave. - - Perhaps you’d like to know his foes, who arose - To strike him down with deadly blows. Who knows - But such as he? Who else can tell - The horrid shapes, the cruel spell - These demons from the pit of hell disclose? - - “Hunger,” you say, “sickness and cold; no fold; - No home that such as he might hold, to mould - And make them good, and true, and wise?” - Ah, yes! and on the streets before his eyes - Were Satan’s minions in disguise; so bold! - - These dens of ill, they grow, you know; - We find them everywhere as we go, ready to throw - Their snares with fiendish skill. - Almost ’twould seem, to suit their will, - They’d gorge earth’s prisons to their fill below. - - God looked on Tommy in the fight for right, - Saw darkness struggling with the light, so bright— - That light which shone on Eastern plain - Where shepherds heard angelic strain - Such as will surely come again some night. - - God knew about the thrall, the small, - Weak hands which yet might fall, the call - Which all too loud might prove to be - For one so young, so little helped as he, - So tempted oft, and yet withal so free to fall. - - And so, one cold Thanksgiving Day, so gay - With jingling bells, and sleigh and play, - The father sent a messenger in love, - To take poor Tommy to his home above, - Where, clad in garments whiter than the dove, he’ll stay. - - And now no more he’ll walk that street, where sleet - And slush so cruel hurt his feet; repeat - No more his song of paper vending, - Shiver no more while restless horse attending, - But join in song triumphant, never ending and sweet. - - But on this day of this November, remember - Tommies there are, with feet as cold and tender, remember, - As his once were, who now on golden strand - Meet rich and poor, of this and every land. - These need your store, your love, your helping hand, remember! - R. - - - - -ROBERT TRUESDALE’S LOGIC. - - -THEY were great friends, Robert Truesdale and Claire Waterman. During -the long, bright summer at the seashore they spent as much time -together as possible, and discussed all sorts of questions. They had -opinions concerning everything under the sun, and agreed so well, -generally, that to find a subject upon which they totally differed only -added interest to the summer. - -One of these subjects was found one morning when they sat together on -the beach. It began—that is, the discussion did—by Robert’s making the -astonishing statement that he never went to circuses. - -Claire stopped playing with the sand which she was letting run idly -through her fingers, and turned so that she could see his face. “How -very queer!” she said; “I thought all boys went to circuses. Did you -never go?” - -“I went once,” said Robert, low-voiced, “when I was quite a little -fellow, and that was once too often. I never cared to try it again.” - -“I cannot imagine why. I think circuses are splendid. We never go in -the city, of course. Why, they don’t have circuses in cities, do they? -But I go to my Auntie’s every summer for two months—I always have until -this summer—and Uncle West takes us children to the circus just as -regularly. That is the reason I like the country so much better than -the city, you can go to such queer out-of-door things. And I think the -little circus ponies are too cunning for anything; I have always wanted -one for my own. Mamma laughs, and says she doesn’t know but I will be a -circus rider when I grow up—and then the clown is so funny. Why don’t -you want to go, Robert? What happened when you went once? Was there an -accident?” - -“No,” said Robert slowly, “I suppose not; I am afraid it was an -every-day affair. It is a long story, Claire, and begins away back of -that day. I have been brought up differently from you, you know. My -father was a minister, and he and my mother did not approve of shows -of that kind, and I was never taken to them when I was a small boy. I -never heard nor thought much about them; we lived in a large town, but -not too large for the traveling circus; but I got the idea, somehow, -that only low people attended such places, and never coaxed to go.” - -Claire exclaimed over this, “Why, Robert, where my Auntie lives -everybody goes, only the minister and a few old dried-up people.” - -[Illustration: “HOW VERY QUEER!”] - -“Yes, I know,” said Robert gravely; “some people in the country have -different views from those which my father and mother had; but I did -not know it when I was a little chap; I thought that all respectable -people thought alike. The first time I changed my ideas any was when I -had gone to spend the year with my Grandmother in the country—that was -the summer after mother died, and my father had died the winter before. -I found that a great many country people went to circuses. All the boys -and girls who went to school with me in the little old schoolhouse were -looking forward to going as a matter of course; and I heard more talk -about the circus that summer than I had ever heard in my life before. -I began to want to go very much. The more I talked with the boys, the -more I became convinced that it was because my father was a minister -that I had been held away from such places. ‘Of course ministers ought -not to go,’ I told myself, ‘because’—and there I would have to stop; I -knew no reason why they should not go where other people did, and could -not reason about it any better than some grown people can nowadays; -still I called it a settled point, and began to coax my grandmother to -let me go to the circus. ‘Just this once,’ I said to her; ‘I want to -see for myself.’ - -“I have never understood how she came to let me have my way, unless it -was because she was a very indulgent grandmother, and pitied the orphan -boy, and could not bear to say ‘No.’ Any way, I received permission, -and the necessary quarter of a dollar, and started off in great glee. - -“I ought to tell you,” he continued, after a slight hesitation—and the -flush on his brown cheek deepened a little—“that although I was only -a little fellow ten years old, I was a member of the church, and was -trying to live my religion. There was a ragged little boy not much -older than myself, very ignorant and neglected, but a leader in all -sorts of mischief, whom I had had ambitions to help. I had been kind to -him, instead of making sport of his rags, as the other boys did, until -I had a certain sort of influence over him, and he had partly promised -me to try to be a better boy. - -“Well, I went to the circus, and saw the ponies, and heard the -jokes, and was delighted; but as I stood around outside afterwards, -open-mouthed and open-eyed, I saw two of the men whom I had most -admired in the ring, fighting. They had been drinking just enough to -make them quarrelsome, and such horrid oaths as they were using I had -never even imagined possible before. I stood still with fright and -horror and watched the blows, and listened to the vile language, until -somebody touched my elbow, and there was little Pete, the ragged boy. -He was grinning wickedly. ‘My eyes!’ he said, ‘was you in there?’ -nodding toward the tent. ‘I was struck all of a heap when I see you -come out. I didn’t think this kind was for you. I thought you belonged -to the “goody-goodies,” you know. Miss Wheeler, she said when she was -talking to us fellows about it, “O, no! Robert Truesdale won’t go to -the circus, I am sure; he is his father’s own boy, and is walking the -same road he did.” I guess you got off the road this time, didn’t you?’ - -“I do not believe I shall ever forget the wicked leer in the little -fellow’s face as he said those words; and I am sure I shall never -forget the feeling of shame which I had as I looked at those two -dreadful men with the blood streaming down their faces, and the vile -words streaming from their mouths, and realized that I had spent my -afternoon in laughing at their speeches, and had been found out of the -road in which my father had walked—so far out that this street boy had -noticed it! I turned and ran away as fast and as far as I could, and I -do not think I shall ever attend another circus.” - -“How very strange!” said Claire; “but then, after all, Robert, bad men -will swear and drink and fight. You did not make them any worse by -going to see them ride.” - -“I can’t be sure of that, Claire. What if my twenty-five cents helped -to encourage them to live the life which kept them in the midst of -such temptations? That is what good men who have studied and thought -about these things say of the circus. Besides,” and here the boy’s face -took on a little touch of lofty scorn, “I want to grow up to be such -a character that the jokes and jumpings of evil men cannot amuse me; -I want to learn to be above them. Then you see what the ragged little -street boy thought?” - -“Yes,” said Claire gravely; “I never thought much about it; I just -went, of course, because the others did, but I shouldn’t like to be -counted on that side, exactly. Robert, maybe I won’t go any more. I -must think about it.” - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - - - - -HOW THE DEER KNEW. - - -MY neighbor’s little boy one evening saw his teacher coming up the lane -and called her in to take a look at his pet fawn. - -“Well, if he didn’t get half a foot taller since I saw him last,” said -the teacher; “if he keeps on like that, Tommy, he will be a big deer -the first thing you know.” - -“Yes, he’s growing,” said Tommy; “but I wanted to see you about -something else. He seems to be sick, and we do not know what to do -about it.” - -“Why, he looks all right now; what seemed to be the matter with him?” - -“He doesn’t eat,” said Tommy, “and he upset his water dish when I tried -to make him drink. I went up on the hill to get him the best grass I -could find, but it’s no use; he must be sick.” - -“Let me see that grass,” said the teacher. “I thought so,” she laughed, -when Tommy took her to the fawn’s fodder corner; “you got a lot of -wormwood leaves mixed up with the grass, and one of the leaves got in -that water dish.” - -Tommy stared. “Oh! maybe that’s the reason he upset his water,” he -burst out; “but I had no idea that would make any difference. What -makes him so very particular about a few leaves, I wonder?” - -“You will know if you taste them,” said the teacher; “and maybe your -fawn wanted to get even with you for teaching him to jump through a -hoop.” - -“Why, he seems to like that,” laughed Tommy. - -“That’s just what I mean,” said the teacher; “he felt so much obliged -to you and wanted to pay you back—by teaching you a good lesson. An -animal, you see, won’t touch any bad-tasting food if it is in good -health, and if you give it the wrong kind of drink it doesn’t mind its -thirst, but waits till it gets something better. And that’s an answer -to the question you asked me a few weeks ago, when you wanted to know -how people could help getting fond of drinks that make them drunk and -sick. They should let such stuff alone altogether, if they find out -it does not taste right at first. You found out something about that -yourself, didn’t you?” - -“About what—the ugly taste of bad drinks, you mean?” - -“Yes; don’t you remember what you told me about that hotel where you -got thirsty, and tried a glass of something you thought was lemonade, -and found it was beer?” - -“O, yes! I remember,” laughed Tommy; “I never tasted anything worse -in my life. I don’t see how in the world people can get fond of such -stuff.” - -“That’s just it,” said the teacher; “they should do as your little deer -did this afternoon, and never meddle with a drink that tastes very -bad the first time they try it, unless they should be sick and need a -bitter medicine for particular purposes. If a healthy person should -try to drink big glasses full of ugly medicine just for fun every day -he would soon be sick, and few medicines taste as bad as some of the -drinks so many people get drunk on.” - -“Cod-liver oil doesn’t, nor herb tea,” said Tommy. “I tried them, and -know they are not half as ugly as beer. And they say beer isn’t the -worst yet,” he added; “there are drinks that taste like burning fire, -if you get a drop on your tongue. I don’t see how in the world anybody -can get fond of such stuff.” - -“Let me tell you,” said the teacher. “The first time they try it -they cannot help disliking it, and they should take the hint to let -it alone altogether. But if they keep drinking it in spite of their -horror, it will lead to a very strange result. Their nature gradually -gets changed, till a time comes when they cannot do without a drink -that made them shudder when they tasted it first. It is that way with -beer and brandy, and even with a drink made of that very wormwood -that would have made your deer sick if it had eaten it. Just rub one -of those leaves between your fingers, and then put the tip of your -finger to your tongue. That is just exactly the taste of a stuff called -absinthe, and brandy and strong beer are almost as bad.” - -“You say people get fond of it if they drink it again and again,” mused -Tommy, “but what makes them do that, I wonder? What makes them try it -at all?” - -“They see other people do it,” said the teacher, “and so they try it -themselves, and keep on trying, because they think Mr. So-and-so ought -to know better than nature. Their own nature warns them against it, -but they do not mind that warning, and keep on till it is too late -to turn back. Now you might ask me to tell you who first took it in -his head to make himself sick with such a foolish habit. That seems a -puzzle, indeed, but it has been explained in this way. Before people -drank wine they drank the fresh juice of grapes—‘must,’ as they call -it—and probably tried to keep some of it in bottles and jars. Now in -warm weather sweet juices of that sort are very apt to spoil—they -ferment, as it is called, and their pleasant taste becomes sharp and -disagreeable. Some stingy housekeeper in old times may have forced his -servants to drink that spoiled stuff rather than throw it away, and -after a while they got fond of it, and the foolish habit spread all -over the country. Now wine is nothing but fermented or spoiled must. -Beer is fermented barley water. They let barley get soaked in water, -and then mix it and stir till it gets that sharp taste that made you -sick when you tried it by mistake in that summer hotel last year.” - -“Yes; and on that same trip I once got in the wrong railway car,” said -Tommy, “and that car was full of tobacco smoke enough to make my -little brother cry, and I thought it would choke me before the train -stopped and we got back in the right car. I know a boy who got so sick -he had to go to bed when he first tried to smoke; but I am sure I shall -never try it at all.” - -[Illustration: SHE’S SUCH A DARLING!] - -“That’s right, Tommy; let such things alone altogether,” said the -teacher. “It’s very easy never to begin, but if you should get fond of -such bad habits you might find it hard to get rid of them.” - -“I have a book about travels,” said Tommy, “and I read that the -American Indians first taught white men to smoke. One of my cousins has -been in Mexico, and when I asked him what made the Indians so fond of -tobacco smoke, he said they first used it to drive mosquitoes out of -their cabins. They burn tobacco leaves on a hot pan, and the gnats all -fly out of the window.” - -“I should not wonder,” laughed the teacher; “and that would show that -mosquitoes have more sense than those Indians.” - - FELIX L. OSWALD. - - - - -SOMETHING FOR MAMMA. - - -I GET the idea and most of the details from Harper’s Bazar. The article -from which they are taken says the contrivance is for an invalid, but -let me assure you that mamma will like it very much, or, for the matter -of that, papa also, though they have not thought of being invalids. - -First, contrive to get a nice pine board about twenty-five inches -long and twenty-one wide (if you are making it for me I should like -the board a little narrower, but perhaps mamma might not); cover it -with felt of any color you please—perhaps it would be well to have -in mind the furniture in the room where it is chiefly to live, and -secure a color which will harmonize, or at least not “fight,” with the -prevailing color there. - -Perhaps, however, you will be in the condition in which I have -sometimes found myself; namely, with a piece of felt of a certain -color which obstinately refuses to turn into another, no matter how -much I might desire it; in that case, if I were you I would go right -ahead with my present; I feel sure mamma will find it useful, even -though it is not just the shade which you and she like best. The same -remarks will apply to material. I have used cretonne, or even calico, -where I would have preferred felt if I could have got it. Well, we -will pretend to cover this pine board with felt; we will have the felt -so long and wide that it will reach say for six inches or so below -the board at both ends, and on the front side. Then make neat little -pockets for these ends and side, with a flap to button down over them -when desired. These are to hold letters, envelopes, bits of poetry, -scraps of prose, recipes, in fact anything which mamma desires to have -convenient when she sits down to write. If mamma uses a fountain pen -I think she will like exceedingly a little narrow pocket, just wide -enough for her pen to slip in easily, and just deep enough for it to -stand upright and put its head out for her to get hold of. If she does -not, a “traveler’s inkstand,” leather covered, may be glued at the -right end of the board; it has a “spring” cover, you will remember, -and takes faithful care of the ink when closed. A stamp box of wood or -paper may be glued at the other end. - -What a delightful present that will be when you get it done! I am -sure “mamma” will appreciate and enjoy it. The Bazar says a row of -brass-headed nails should be driven all around the edges of the board, -I suppose to hold the felt firmly in place; but a little girl who had -no brass nails could very easily sew her felt or cretonne or calico -around the under side of the board, and make her pockets separately, -sewing them firmly to their places, if she wished. - -In fact, there is room in this device for many changes and -improvements. I can imagine an ingenious girl or boy—or perhaps it -would be better to say girl and boy—putting their heads together, and -making many variations which would be a comfort to the fortunate owner. -Try it, and let me know the result. - - PANSY. - -[Illustration: SHE STRUGGLED WITH THE SLEEVES.] - - - - -NANNIE’S THANKSGIVING. - - -IT was very early in the morning; earlier, in fact, than Nannie was -in the habit of being up; but on account of Thanksgiving Day, and the -fact that they were all going, to Aunt Cornelia’s to dinner, Nannie -thought she ought to be on hand early. She was waiting for mamma to -give her her bath, and sat down to pet Rosamond Catherine Lorinda in -the meantime. The middle name, Catherine, was in honor of Grandma -Patterson, but Nannie did not like it very well, and felt obliged to -place it between two names which she called “delicious,” in order to -tolerate it. A bright thought occurred to her; she might dress the -child for the Thanksgiving dinner while she waited. It was while she -struggled with the sleeve which did not want to go on that the thought -came which caused all her trouble. - -“This sleeve is too small,” she said; “I b’lieve my child’s arm must -have grown a great deal since she wore this dress before; she ought to -have had a new dress for Thanksgiving; she would look sweet in a white -embroidered one trimmed with lace.” Just then the baby in the willow -cradle at her side nestled in his sleep, and Nannie turned and looked -at him. - -“If Rosamond Catherine Lorinda only had one dress like what Teddy has -so many of, I should be too perfectly happy,” she said. “Just think, I -b’lieve he has as many as ’leven or eight! Mamma might borrow me one -just for to-day; it would be too long, but I could cut it off at the -bottom; it would be just as easy to sew it on again when Teddy needed -it; and the sleeves I could loop up with pink ribbons, and she would -look too perfectly sweet!” - -The more she thought about it, the more the longing grew; at last it -began to seem a positive injustice that Teddy should have so many -clothes and not be willing to lend any to Rosamond Catherine Lorinda. -“I know he would, if he understood,” said Nannie, looking approvingly -upon the sleeping baby; “he loves my Rosamond, and kisses her just as -cunning! And he has such a perfectly lovely lot of dresses! I just -mean to look in the bruro drawer and count them.” Saying which, she -tiptoed toward the bureau behind the cradle, and opened the second -drawer. To be sure she was barefooted, and could not have made much -noise; besides, if she was doing right why should she care if her -footsteps were heard? Nevertheless, she instinctively tiptoed along, -and opened the drawer as softly as she could; and it was not for fear -of waking Teddy, either. - -There lay the dresses in a fluffy white heap; on the top was the one -which Nannie most coveted. - -“Teddy hardly ever wears it,” she said reassuringly, as she drew it -out; “I guess mamma doesn’t like it very much or she would put it on -him oftener; and Rosamond Catherine will look too perfectly sweet for -anything in it. I am most sure mamma would not care. I could cut it off -right through all those little embroidery holes, then Grandma could sew -them together again just as easy.” - -I grieve to tell you that she did exactly that dreadful thing. Not -immediately; she resolved to try the dress on first, and see if it -would do; and despite the fact that the waist was many times too large, -and the limp arms were altogether lost in the sleeves, the waxen-haired -beauty looked so enchanting to her mother’s eyes, under those billows -of white, that in a very short space of time the shining shears were -making a long, crooked line through the costly embroidery with which -Teddy’s best dress was trimmed. - -O, me! the troubles which in this way were stored up for naughty, -foolish Nannie. They began almost immediately; for despite the fact -that Nannie had coaxed herself into the fancy that there was no harm -in what she did, she found she was not willing to have her mother -know about it, and crumpled the elegant dress into a small bundle and -thrust it under the great rug at her feet when she heard her mother’s -footsteps. All through the breakfast hour, and even at family worship, -she was engaged in planning how she should get Rosamond Catherine -Lorinda dressed and wrapped in her traveling cloak without any one -having seen her; for fond as she was of exhibiting the beauty, she -found that to-day she would rather her charms were hidden from all eyes. - -She was still planning ways and means when the discovery came. She was -not prepared for it, because when Teddy had so many dresses, how could -she suppose that when her mother opened the drawer to select one she -would exclaim, “Why, what has become of his dress? I laid it on top so -as to get it without disturbing the others.” - -A good deal of talk followed. Papa suggested that she had laid it in -some other drawer, and Aunt Laura said perhaps Grandma had taken it to -set a stitch in; and Grandma affirmed that she had not, and asked what -Nannie was longing to: “Why don’t you take one of the others, daughter, -and get the little fellow ready while he is good-natured?” - -“Well, but where can it be?” asked the puzzled mother, closing the -drawer. “I am sure I laid it here, on the top. I wanted Adelaide to see -him in that dress, because she sent me the embroidery for it, you know, -and it is more expensive than any I should have bought.” - -Nannie caught her breath nervously over this; she had not supposed the -embroidery was so choice; she might just as well have taken one of the -other dresses if she had only known. - -Just at that moment Susan, who was bustling about, packing Teddy’s -traveling bag, stooped down and pulled at something white under the -rug, as she said, “Shall I put in some playthings, Mrs. Walters? Why, -what’s this?” - -What was it, sure enough, but the lost dress cut in two, in a fearful -zigzag manner, directly through the costly embroidery! Can you imagine -what followed? I am sure you will not be surprised to learn that poor, -naughty little Nannie had a whipping then and there. Her mother did -not even wait for Susan to leave the room, as she generally did before -punishing any of her children. It is true the whipping was not very -severe, for Mrs. Walters was never severe; but the disgrace of it was -terrible, for Nannie was very rarely whipped. - -However, this was by no means the worst of her troubles; behold, mamma -declared that she could not go to the Thanksgiving dinner, but must -stay at home with Susan and the cat. Now when you reflect that they -were to ride four miles in a beautiful sleigh drawn by two prancing -horses, and meet a baker’s dozen of little cousins, some of whom Nannie -had never seen, to say nothing of the delights of the Thanksgiving -dinner, and the little pies with their names on, done in sugar plums, -which were to be ready for each cousin, I am sure you will feel with -Nannie that her punishment was greater than she could bear. In truth, -the others thought so. Papa said, “My dear, couldn’t you reconsider, -somehow?” Aunt Laura said, “Jennie, I think you are horrid!” And even -Susan ventured to say, “I don’t think she knew it was his best dress, -ma’am; and she says Grandma can sew it together, poor little heart.” -But Mrs. Walters was very firm. She did not deign to answer Laura -or Susan, but said to her husband, “Richard, I don’t know how I can -change, now. I said she couldn’t, and you know I ought to keep my word. -Besides, the child needs a serious lesson; it is quite as hard for me, -I think, as for her,” and the mother’s lip quivered a little. Then the -father said soothingly, that of course he knew she was doing it for -Nannie’s best good, and he could trust her judgment where he couldn’t -his own. But Aunt Laura remained indignant, and the whole household was -in trouble. “Our Thanksgiving is spoiled,” said Aunt Laura; “I’ve a -good mind not to go.” - -Meantime, Grandma said not a word. It was nearly an hour afterwards, -and the preparations for starting, which had gone on much more -silently, were almost completed, when Grandma opened the door of Mrs. -Walters’ room, dressed in her best black silk, with her beautiful white -satin hair peeping out from under the soft laces of her best cap, and -holding by the hand a little girl with very red eyes, and a red nose, -who kept up a suspicious little sniffing, as though it was only by -great effort she refrained from bursting into fresh tears. Grandma -walked straight toward her daughter, and said, “Mamma, we have come to -ask you if you will not forgive poor little Nannie, who is very sorry, -and let her go to-day, for Grandma’s sake—not for hers at all, but for -Grandma’s.” - -And the handsome mother, with a sudden glad light flashing in her gray -eyes, stooped and kissed the cheek of her sweet old mother, and then of -her own little daughter, as she said, “Dear mother, you know what you -ask for your own sake I could certainly never refuse.” - -The years have rolled on since then, enough of them to make little -Nannie twenty-six, and the mother of one Rosamond, who has golden hair -like the dollie, her namesake, but who is mischievous, as Rosamond of -old never was. And I heard the sweet mother say, last Thanksgiving -morning, after having told this story of her past for the benefit of -some young mothers, “I am thankful for two things: that I had a mother -who taught me that wrong-doing must bring unhappiness, not only to -myself, but to others; and that I had a dear Grandmother who taught me -what it was to have a powerful friend to come between me and Justice, -and say, ‘For my sake.’“ - - PANSY. - - - - -[Illustration: PAPA’S CHOICE.] - - - HERE stands my baby, - On two little feet; - With her bushy brown head, - And her dimples so sweet. - - Her arms are all ready - To give me a hug; - So give me my baby, - And you keep your pug. - R. - - - - -NOVEMBER. - - - WHAT is thy mission, November, - Thou link ’twixt the living and dead? - What message would’st have us remember, - Writ on thy dried leaves, to be read - As lessons to youth and to age, - To the simple, the student, the sage? - - Stern duty, thy scepter of power, - The husbandman readily sees; - And takes up the tasks of the hour - As the limbs bear the buds on the trees; - For he sows not, ploughs not, nor reaps; - He laughs not, he frowns not, nor weeps. - - The frosts, without cost, starch the ground; - Spread a mirror o’er river and lakes; - While nuts scattered thickly around, - More treasured than apples and cakes, - The children may gather with ease, - With the squirrels which hide in the trees. - - The apples are now in the bins, - The pumpkins upon the barn floor, - Save those which, bereft of their skins, - Hang to dry on the biggest barn door; - The banking’s high piled ’gainst the house, - To keep it as snug as a mouse. - - Thou wast wisely ordained for man, - For time was much needed, we see, - In which for cold winter to plan, - And prepare for the storms which must be; - So, while few may sing of thy praise, - We will welcome and treasure thy days. - - Not all the best things of this grand old earth, - Not all the hours of the year around, - Are welcomed here with the songs of mirth, - Nor in fields of pleasure are ever found, - For cloudy are the days of welcome rain, - And sharp the sickle for the golden grain. - G. R. A. - - * * * * * - - THE soul that perpetually overflows with kindness and - sympathy will always be cheerful. - -[Illustration: NOVEMBER.] - - - - -BABY’S CORNER. - -WHAT MADE BABY LAUGH? - - -BABY DALE’S mamma had a great many pictures of her little boy, but they -were not pretty. - -The trouble was, he would not sit still even for one little minute. He -was always jumping or clapping his fat hands, or saying “Baa, baa!” - -One of his pictures had three eyes, and one had no nose. - -One funny one had his mouth wide open like a big O, for he was crying. - -And there was one where he had his mouth shut, but he looked very -cross. He had a frown between his eyes. Mamma said she would not know -it was her sunny boy. - -But by and by a man came who could take pictures whether babies kept -still or not. - -One day little Dale was in his high chair by the window. Outdoors it -was snowing. - -Baby thought the snowflakes were pretty white feathers coming down from -the sky. Mamma and he played with a feather once that came out of his -pillow. It was nice. - -Such a lot of feathers! They made pretty white caps on the fence posts. -And there were great heaps of them on the ground! - -“Some day,” thought Baby, “I will go out that door, and I will creep -right down the steps, and I will go to that big pile of feathers, and I -will get my hand full, and I will throw them away up, up, back into the -sky!” - -Then baby laughed, and the man who had come to take his picture touched -a button on a queer little box he had, and there was Baby just as you -see him. - -That is how Baby Dale came to have a picture that mamma loved. - -All the aunties, when they saw it, said, “Oh! how sweet.” - -[Illustration: “I WILL GET MY HAND FULL.”] - -Mamma sent a picture to the grandma down in Flor-i-da, and one to the -grandma up in Maine. One went over the ocean to Uncle John who loves -Baby Dale very dearly. One went out West to Auntie Lou, and one went to -Boston, to be printed for you. - - MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON. - - * * * * * - - SOMETIMES in the early springtime, - The sunbeams floating ’round - Are caught out in the showers, - And are washed into the ground. - - But, ere the summer’s over, - They take root in the sod, - And grow up with fresh brightness - In the form of Golden Rod. - —_Selected._ - - - - -LORA’S SERMON. - - -IT was Sunday morning, and all the family except Lora and her mother -had gone to church. As a rule they, or at least Lora, were the first to -be tucked into the sleigh; but on this particular morning Mrs. Wheeler -had said she was not going; that she had a little cold, she believed, -and was “all tuckered out” with the week’s work, and just in condition -to get more cold very easily; and Lora’s coat did look too ridiculous -to wear to church, so she had better stay at home with her. - -“By next Sunday you will have your new coat,” she said, to console the -child, “and be all in order for church for the rest of the winter.” - -Lora looked sober for a few minutes; she was very fond of riding to -church tucked in among the great soft robes, and she did not mind the -service so very much, though the sermon was pretty long. However, she -was naturally a sunny little girl, and her face soon cleared as she -buttoned her somewhat shabby coat, and went out to watch the snowbirds, -who were gathering in great numbers near the barn doors. - -Lora and the snowbirds were friends; indeed she made friends with all -sorts of dumb animals, and had queer little ideas about them. - -“You will fall,” she said gravely, addressing a fat bird who swung on -a tiny branch almost at her side; “you have picked out a very slimsy -branch; it looks as though it was almost broked off; maybe it will -break while you are swinging on it—I most know it will—then you will -fall down in the snow and hurt yourself. I falled off of a limb once, -and it hurted.” - -The bird paid not the slightest attention to this friendly warning, but -Lora continued to stand still, looking at the swaying bush, her face -full of earnest thought. She had already turned from the bird, and was -thinking about the verse sister Nannie had taught her that morning. It -was a long verse for a little girl, with some hard words in it; but -Lora had mastered them, and said them over in her mind, revolving, -meanwhile, the explanation which Nannie had made of them. “If a man -abide not in me he is cast forth as a branch, and is withered.” -“Branches do wivver as soon as they are broked off,” said Lora. “I’ve -seen them; and papa and Moses burn them up—that is what it said. - -“This stick is broked off,” she continued, carefully examining the one -which she grasped with both chubby hands; “it used to grow, but it -won’t ever any more. All the leaves have wivvered off it, and some day -it will get burned up, I s’pose; it isn’t good for much.” - -Words stopped just here, but that little Lora’s brain went on with the -great thoughts which she could not express, was evident from the look -on her face. The Bible verse and Nannie’s careful explanation of it had -taken deep root in her heart. She went into the house presently; the -thoughts had grown so large that she felt as though she must ask some -more questions. - -As a usual thing, Sunday quiet reigned in Mrs. Wheeler’s kitchen at -this hour of the day. But this day was an exception. Mrs. Wheeler, -bustling about doing up the last things connected with the morning -work, had come across a bowl of mince meat and a lump of dough -evidently left from pie crust. “I declare for it!” she exclaimed, “I -thought Kate made up all the pies yesterday. What a careless thing, to -leave this bowl of mince meat here over Sunday! It would make two good -pies, and if all the folks come for Thanksgiving we may fall short; -they set such store by my pies. I wonder what Kate was about? It must -have got dark before she finished. These must be made up the first -thing to-morrow—but there is pretty near everything to do to-morrow, -too; it makes a great deal of work getting ready for such a house full; -and pie crust is none the better for standing, either; I declare, -I’ve a mind to slap this on to a couple of tins and set them in the -oven; there is fire enough to bake them nicely, and it won’t take five -minutes, hardly, and there are so many ways to turn to-morrow.” - -There were more thoughts about it not put into words, but it ended in -the moulding board being spread out on the table, and the flour jar -and rolling-pin and pastry knife being laid beside it. I wonder they -did not all blush for shame, for such a thing had never happened to -them before on a Sabbath. Mrs. Wheeler’s cheeks were rather red, and -she felt what she would have called “kind of queer”; but she flew about -very fast, and meant to be soon seated in the best room in her Sunday -dress. - -It was just at that moment that Lora pushed open the kitchen door and -entered, her eyes large with the thoughts about which she wanted to -question. They grew larger as she took in the situation. Her mother -rolling out pie crust! And it was Sunday! Such a thing had never -happened in Lora’s experience. Nobody knows why the queer little brain -put together the thoughts which had come to her outside, and the pie -crust in the kitchen; but it did, and there came, presently, this -question: “Did you get broked off, muvver?” - -“Did I what?” said Mrs. Wheeler, her cheeks very red. There was -something in Lora’s look and tone which made them redder. - -“Get broked off. That is what Nannie said. She said folks that got -broked off did things that Jesus did not want done; and kept doing -them. Does he want you to make pies to-day, muvver?” - -“If I ever saw such a child!” said Mrs. Wheeler, making the rolling-pin -revolve over the board at railroad speed. “What does Nannie mean -putting such notions into your head? Go into the other room, child, and -take off your coat; I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’m not going to -make pies; I shall wad up this dough and keep it until to-morrow.” - -And she did. - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - - - - -THAT RAINY DAY. - - -THE Stautenbergers were not rich, neither were they poor. Their house -was not large, neither was it very little; but there was none too much -room in it. - -Mrs. Stautenberger was dead; had “fallen asleep,” as the father called -it, that very autumn; so when he went to the shop for his day’s work, -Pauline, the eldest, had to be both sister and mother to her three -sisters, and one little brother. - -The teacher of the school in their district was very kind, and after -her first call at the “home without a mother,” she said to Pauline, “Do -not stay at home to care for baby sister; bring her with you, and we -will manage in some way. I think she will be a good little girl.” - -Then Pauline felt sure she should love the teacher very much. When her -father came home she told him what Miss Gilbert had said, and as he -wiped a tear away, he, too, thought she would be a nice teacher, and -must have a good heart to be so willing to help his motherless ones. - -There are a great many things I would like to tell you about this -little family and their splendid teacher, but all I will have time for -now, is the story of one rainy day, and what they did about it. - -The storm was so hard they could none of them venture out; certainly -little Gretchen must not be taken out, so there seemed a prospect for a -dull, dreary, lonesome day. - -The few dishes were soon put away, and all were hungry for school. - -“I know what to do,” said Pauline; “let’s play school. We can read and -spell and make numbers, and maybe we can study geography a little; then -when we go to school to-morrow teacher will be so s’prised to see how -much we have learned; and then she’ll smile, and maybe she will kiss -us, every one! Won’t that be fun?” - -She didn’t try to rhyme, but in her eagerness it came of itself. - -So they had school, and Metza played teacher, and Pauline sat by little -Gretchen, and Fritz and Mary sat with them on the long lounge, and they -had such a nice time they forgot that it was storming outside, and were -much astonished when at noon papa came home to lunch, and so sorry they -had forgotten to heat the water for his coffee. - -But when they told him what a nice time they had had, he smiled, and -said, “My Pauline has been a good mother to-day.” And she thought, “I -have the best papa in the world.” - - G. R. A. - -[Illustration: “THIS STICK IS BROKED OFF,” SAID LORA.] - - - - -PERFUMED GLOVES. - - -PERFUMED gloves were brought from Italy by Edward Vere, Earl of -Oxford, after his exile, and his present to Queen Elizabeth of a pair -with embroidered roses is mentioned in history. But the refinement of -perfumed gloves had been known for three centuries in France before -the days of the Virgin Queen, and in Spain the gloves were famous -for the scent imparted to them long before her day. The luxurious -court of Charles the Second used perfumed gloves, and those “trimmed -and laced as fine as Nell’s,” you have no doubt read about. Louis -the Fourteenth also issued letter patents of his “_marchands maitres -gantiers parfeumeurs_.” In Venice, where the love of dress was -conspicuous, perfumed gloves were introduced by a dogess as early as -1075.—_Selected._ - -[Illustration: QUEEN ELIZABETH WHEN A PUPIL.] - - * * * * * - - THAT day is best wherein we give - A thought of others’ sorrows; - Forgetting self, we learn to live, - And blessings born of kindly deeds - Make golden our to-morrows. - - - - -A SABBATH IN A BOARDING-SCHOOL IN TURKEY. - - -I. - -IT was the dawn of a winter morning. Ding-dong-ding clanged the -chapel bell. I sprang up and began to dress, while Marta went to the -mission-house for a cup of coffee. As I fastened the last button, there -was a rap at the door. “Come,” I called, and in walked the dear little -maid with a cup of coffee carefully covered to keep in the steam, and a -roll done up in a napkin, which the cook had insisted upon her bringing. - -Ding-dong began the bell again. “Tell the girls not to wait for me,” I -said; and soon the clatter of many feet on the stairs indicated their -departure. The coffee must be swallowed, and the little roll must not -be wholly neglected; then putting on bonnet and ulster, I started to -follow. Fido, our little spaniel, was standing disconsolate in the -hall below. Her eyes were full of entreaty, and wagging her tail -persuasively, she accompanied me to the door. - -“Go back, Fido. Can’t take little dogs to church!” I exclaimed. She -knew it was no use to tease, and stood watching me as I opened the -heavy door with difficulty, and slammed it after me—it would not latch -unless slammed. As I reached the church door, I heard the organ—that -meant the service had begun, and I was late! something I never meant -to be, but this was so early to go to church! The Armenians are all -accustomed in the Gregorian Church to a service even earlier, and when -they become Protestant, or Evangelical, they still cling to the old way -of making worship the first thing in the morning, and giving breakfast -the second place. - -Instead, then, of going up the men’s aisle, and sitting at the further -end where we missionaries usually do, I went on to the door at the -left—the women’s—and slipped into a back seat. A little girl just in -front of me passed me her hymn book, so that I could join with the -congregation in singing “_Garode yem, voh garode yem_”—“I need Thee, -O, I need Thee.” Just as the hymn closed, the sun’s rays struck the -eastern window and streamed in; then the preacher arose and read the -epistle to Philemon, and also 1 Cor. vii. 22. . . . - -The benediction was pronounced, and the congregation slowly streamed -out. The walk from the chapel to the street is narrow, and as it is -not proper for women to crowd in among the men, we waited till they -had mostly passed on. While standing outside, Shushan, one of our day -pupils, came along with her mother; both were completely enveloped -in the white crapy wrap which is worn by the Armenian women in this -section. Shushan’s bright-colored dress showed through, and at the same -time set off the figure in the wrap. - -“_Par-ee loo-is_, Shushan; are you of the same mind as yesterday about -going to Kozloo?” - -She returned my good-morning, and said she was; yes, indeed! - -“Why should we change our minds?” said her mother. “Are we not also -Christ’s servants?” referring to the sermon we had just heard. - -You see, Shushan’s brother was bitterly opposed to her going away -to teach, and I thought it quite possible that he had influenced her -to give it up. It was years after girls’ schools were opened before -people were willing to send their children to a woman teacher—I mean a -native—still worse if she was “only a girl.” They would far rather send -them to a man, however ignorant and incapable. That long struggle has -ended at last in victory, and we have no more trouble in finding work -for our girls; but we have another difficulty now. Well-to-do parents -and brothers consider it a disgrace—at least many of them do—to have -their daughters and sisters work as though they were obliged to earn -their support. - -“Haven’t you food and clothes?” they ask indignantly, when a girl, -filled with a desire to do something for her people, intimates a -purpose to teach. Perhaps I may as well complete this little tale here -and now, although it does not belong to the incident of the Sabbath I -have been describing. - -A few days later the (native) pastor came to me and asked anxiously, -“Can’t you persuade Shushan, for the sake of peace, to give up going to -Kozloo? Her brother is very violent, and talks terribly, declaring that -even if she were mounted, and going through the most public street, he -would drag her off the horse; if she should by any chance succeed in -carrying out her plan, she should never come home again—he would never -again acknowledge her as his sister.” The pastor went on to say that he -thought the brother had offered to send her away to school if she would -give up “this crazy scheme,” as he called it. - -I sent for Shushan, and finding that her brother had made the offer -referred to, advised her to accept it. The sacrifice of her will for -the sake of avoiding scandal, would, I was sure, be as acceptable -to the Master as the service she had intended. In less than a week -thereafter, she was on her way to a distant school. - -We passed out through the arched gateway, and then parted with a mutual -“_yer-tak par-rov_”—“good-by.” How the sun sparkled on the snowy -street, on the mountains which seemed to stand across it, so near they -looked, and reared their dazzling summits into the brilliant blue of -the winter sky. - -The girls with their shawls modestly over their heads, crossed the -street in a straggling little procession. Fido appeared in the window -which she had pried open with her little black nose—windows are hung -like doors—gave an eager and joyful bark or two, and rushed down to -welcome them home. Then they sat down to their breakfast of tea and -bread. The former was seasoned with white lump sugar (brown sugar is -unknown), but there was no butter for the bread. - -I doubt whether my readers would have recognized the thin, whity-brown -sheets, or the rags placed before one of the girls who had elected -to take the pieces, as bread, but so it was. They have many kinds in -Turkey, and this thin kind, a little thicker than blotting-paper, is -very popular here. In the autumn it is a very common thing for a girl -to come and say, “Teacher, mother says will you please excuse me from -school to-day?” And she explains that they are baking bread, and need -her help. - -“But why doesn’t your mother get some woman to help her?” - -Then I find that it is a regular “bee”—a bread bee! The neighbors are -already there, and they will work all night—it is no small job to roll -it out so thin. There will be no more baking till the worst of the -winter is over. It is stacked away in a dry place, and when wanted the -requisite number of sheets (about two feet long by one wide) is taken, -sprinkled as you would clothes for ironing, and after a few moments, -folded once lengthwise and laid around the edge of the table. If, -instead of being sprinkled, the bread is held over the fire a moment, -it becomes crisp and really nice; but this is seldom done. - -After the housework was done we had prayers, and then the girls were -dismissed with a charge not to hang about the halls or stairways, -as the boys were coming over again to sing, and to keep their doors -closed. “Not ajar as last Sunday, to my mortification and your -disgrace; most likely the boys thought you left them open on purpose so -that they could look in.” Somehow the boys and girls are wonderfully -interesting to each other all the world over. - -Soon the young fellows filed in, looking half-pleased, half-shy—big, -six-foot Isaac, and clever little Bo-ghos; Sumpad, with his bright, -frank smile; poor, awkward Deekran, the best writer in school, and -his brother Arsen. We practiced “Hold the Fort”; there were two bad -mistakes with which we struggled for a while. Then we sang “What a -Friend we have in Jesus,” “Sweet By and by,” “Almost Persuaded,” “Go -Bury thy Sorrow,” “The Ninety and Nine,” and others—all in Armenian, of -course. - -Then I said just a word to Deekran about money I entrusted to -him—merely a caution to be careful to return any money that might -be left over. It was hardly the thing for the Sabbath, but I was -not likely to see him for some days, and I wanted to prevent any -carelessness—it is so important for boys that they learn to be careful -and business-like. - - HARRIET G. POWERS, _in the Evangelist_. - - - - -THE HARD TEXT. - -(_Matt._ xii. 31, 32.) - - -MANY have been troubled over this text. Some have been in despair of -being saved because they thought they had committed this unpardonable -sin. - -Probably many are mistaken. Any one that truly feels sorrow for his -sins, and really longs for forgiveness and hungers for holiness, shows -some of the best signs that he has not committed this. God will not -cast out such a person, if he comes in Jesus’ name. - -But there is a sin against the Holy Ghost so great that it cannot be -forgiven, and probably when one has committed it he is so desperately -wicked, so hard in heart, that he never asks to be forgiven. - -You will wish to know what this awful sin is, so that you may never -commit it. The thought of being doomed never to see heaven and -Christian friends after death fills you with horror. - -But then, why should you not tremble at committing any sin? One -little sin leads to another, and so on, until the sin of sins is the -end of it all. Take care! - -[Illustration: A SELFISH KID.] - -But how is it—or was it—worse to sin against the Holy Ghost than -against the Son of Man? - -Well, the first might be done in ignorance. The Roman soldiers did not -know what a dreadful thing they were doing when they nailed the dear -Lord to the tree. They might be forgiven that. But the Holy Ghost comes -to show one the truth; then that one has no excuse, you see. His sin is -against light. It is most deliberate, willful, determined. It is much -more. But remember it is sinning against light, great light. - - L. - - - - -AN AMUSING ANECDOTE. - - -SOME time ago an amusing little anecdote was related about the German -Crown Prince whilst having a lesson in grammar from his tutor. One is -now being told about the second son of the imperial couple, Prince -Eitel Fritz. The Emperor is exceedingly strict about his son’s behavior -at table. Not long since little Prince Eitel Fritz, using his fingers -instead of his knife and fork, was corrected by his father several -times to no purpose. At last the Emperor’s patience was exhausted, and -he said: - -“Children who eat with their fingers are like little dogs that hold -their food with their paws. If you use your fingers again you must -go under the table, the proper place for little dogs.” The little -Prince did his utmost not to forget this time, and used his knife and -fork like a man; but all at once he forgot again and began using his -fingers. “March under the table,” said his father. Prince Eitel Fritz -crept under as bidden. After a little while the Emperor, thinking the -Prince very quiet, lifted up the tablecloth and peeped underneath. -There sat little Prince Eitel Fritz undressed. His father asked him -what he meant by undressing himself. The child answered, “Little dogs -don’t wear clothes; they only have skin.”—_Selected._ - - - - -A STRANGE GENERAL. - - -YEARS and years ago there was a busy housekeeper thrown into a fever of -anxiety because she heard a certain famous general was coming, and that -she would be expected to entertain him. She flew about in the greatest -haste, pressing all the people around her into service to help make -ready for the distinguished guest. - -Among others was a man who, by his dress and general appearance, she -took to be a neighbor’s servant. “Take hold and help us here a minute,” -she said, and set him at some work in the kitchen. That being done the -man volunteered to split some wood to a certain size, as it was greatly -needed. While he was thus employed the lady’s husband, who had been -absent, reached home, and was informed of the honor in store for him. -He, too, set about helping with the preparations, and presently went to -the kitchen, where the strange servant was just laying down an armful -of the wood he had split. - -Imagine the man’s stare of astonishment, mingled with dismay, when he -recognized in the stranger the famous general in whose honor all this -bustle of preparation was going forward. - -In stammering confusion he approached the supposed servant, who, by -the way, was slightly deformed, and asked for the meaning of such an -extraordinary state of things. - -“Why,” said the helper, with a broad smile on his face, “I am paying -the fine for my deformity.” - -I leave the Pansies to learn who this great man was, and who was the -woman who in her haste to honor him mistook him for a house servant, -and also what happened in consequence of this. - - PANSY. - - * * * * * - - CRICKETS are bought and sold in various parts of - Africa. People capture them, feed them, and sell them. - The natives are very fond of their music, thinking that - it induces sleep. Superstitions regarding the cricket’s - chirp are varied. Some believe it is ominous of sorrow - and evil, others consider it a harbinger of joy. - -[Illustration: CASTLE QUEER.] - - - - -BABY’S CORNER. - -A HAPPY CHRISTMAS. - - -“CHRISTMAS is coming! Christmas is coming!” - -That is what little Lucy sang as she went through the hall with a hop, -skip and jump, clapping her hands for joy. - -“And what is little daughter going to do to make somebody happy on -Christmas day?” - -[Illustration: ONE OF THOSE LOVELY ROSES.] - -Papa asked this as he came out into the hall. Then he kissed Lucy -good-by, took down his hat from the rack, and went out of the front -door before she had time to tell him. - -Lucy stopped running, and looked out of the window and thought about it. - -Then she went upstairs to mamma and said: - -“Mamma, what am I going to do to make somebody happy to-morrow? What -can little girls do?” - -“You can be just as sweet as a rose all day, and obey mamma as soon as -she speaks. That will make me very happy,” said mamma. - -“But I want to give something to somebody to s’prise ’em and make ’em -glad,” Lucy said. - -“Who is there that you would like to surprise?” her mamma asked. - -Lucy thought a minute, then she said: - -“Mrs. Bly.” - -Mrs. Bly lived in the “Home for Aged Women.” She was a nice old lady, -and Lucy often went with her mother to call upon her. - -“Very well, dear,” said mamma; “there is your gold dollar; if you want -to give it you may.” - -“May I buy ’zactly what I please, mamma?” - -“Yes, dear.” - -“O, how nice!” said Lucy. “Can’t we go now, right off, to buy it?” - -Mamma said “Yes” again, and Lucy ran off to get her hood and cloak and -mittens. In a few minutes she was out on the street with mamma, gazing -into all the shop windows. “What shall I buy? What shall I buy?” she -kept asking. - -Mamma said a little shawl for Mrs. Bly’s shoulders would be nice, or a -pair of warm stockings or some handkerchiefs. But Lucy shook her head. - -“Wouldn’t she like a bu’ful dollie or a sweet little kitty better?” she -asked. - -Mamma had to laugh at that. - -Just then Lucy cried out, “There it is! I see it! That is what I want.” - -Guess what it was. - -[Illustration: WHAT THEY NEED.] - -It was a beautiful large rosebush in a pretty pot. There were two roses -on it and plenty of buds. - -So they went in and bought it. The man said he would send it up right -away. - -Old Mrs. Bly was sitting in her rocking-chair knitting. There came a -knock at the door. She opened it, and who should be there but Lucy and -her mamma, and a boy with a rosebush! - -How surprised Mrs. Bly was, and how pleased, when she knew that little -Lucy bought the plant with her own money. - -“You dear little lamb,” she said; “it will make me very happy. It is -like the roses in my old home.” - -When Christmas morning came Mrs. Bly cut off one of those lovely roses -and put it in a vase. She carried it to a poor old lady across the hall -who was ill in bed, and it made her glad. - -So you see little Lucy made three people happy that Christmas day—the -sick old lady, Mrs. Bly and herself. - - MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON. - - - - -FROM THE HEART. - - - ON the eve of Christmas, - Ready each for bed, - And with heart most anxious, - Bends each little head, - While the prayer was whispered - Close to Grandma’s chair. - Were the angels bending - O’er a sight so fair? - - “Dear Jesus, please to listen, - For Christmas comes to-morrow, - And we so much need some dollies, - So we needn’t have to borrow! - Please have them made of wax, - Wiv blue eyes, and pretty curls; - And we’ll love you more than ever! - We’re your own dear little dirls.” - R. - - - - -A LONG CHRISTMAS. - - -THERE had been the usual Christmas-tree, which the cousins from three -homes had gathered to enjoy. There had not been a Christmas since the -oldest of them could remember—and he was sixteen—that the cousins had -not been together in one of the homes, and had a frolic around the -Christmas-tree. It was always hung with bright-colored balls, and -strings of popcorn, and all the bright and pretty and useless things -which people from year to year have contrived for such trees. It always -had clustered about it the various sorts of fruits which refused, -because of their weight, to be hung upon the branches—dolls, and kites, -and wagons, and swords, and books and baskets. Every year the fruit -grew stranger in some respects, with a dreary sameness in others, which -was actually beginning to weary the hearts of the cousins. - -The first excitement was over. The fathers and mothers and maiden -aunts, together with three grandmothers and two grandfathers, had -retired to quieter parts of the house, and the young people were left -to their enjoyment. It was not very noisy in the room, nor were most of -the cousins absorbed in their gifts; in fact their faces were already -sobering. Little Nell was still happy over her new building-blocks, -and Dell, her other self, was trying to advise her concerning them, -while Harold tried his new paints and brushes on the chair he occupied, -his guardian sister leaning over the back of the chair, so absorbed -the while in her own grave thoughts that she did not even notice the -mischief he was doing. - -“It is all over once more,” said Holly. He was the sixteen-year-old -cousin, and he thrust his hands in his pockets, and said it with a yawn. - -“Some of it is a good deal of a bore,” answered Tom, the cousin next -in age, echoing the yawn. “I didn’t get the first thing I expected or -wanted.” - -“Neither did I; but then I don’t know what I wanted, I am sure, unless -it was a bicycle, and you can’t put that on a Christmas-tree very -well.” - -“Why not, as well as the trumpery which is put on?” asked Tom -contemptuously. “I tell you the whole thing is getting to be a bore. -Even the small fry don’t care for it half so much as they think they -do; there’s Nannie sulking this minute because her dollie, which she -has deserted, is not so nice according to her notion as Lily’s is. And -Ted has turned his back on the whole of it because he didn’t get a -drum. This crowd needs something new.” - -“I don’t know what it would be; we have had everything imaginable, and -if the simple truth were told need presents less than any young folks -in the kingdom, I do suppose. My father says there is nothing new to -get for pampered young people like us; and I don’t know but he is about -right.” - -“There’s a whole lot of money spent about it every year, though.” -This was from Hortense, the oldest of the girl cousins, and a sort of -adviser of the two older boys. - -“I know it,” said Holly; “and a good deal of it is wasted. Nannie, for -instance, did not need another doll any more than the cat needs two -tails, and as for me I have seven jack-knives now.” - -At that moment Helen turned away from the paint brush which she had not -noticed, and joined in the conversation. - -“Isn’t it funny? I have five new balls, and I don’t care for any of -them. They keep giving us the same things over and over.” - -“They forget,” said Holly; “and there is nothing new for them to get -us, anyhow.” - -“I know something that would be new.” It was Hortense again, speaking -with grave thoughtfulness. The boys turned and looked at her -inquiringly. “Don’t you know what Mr. Briggs told about the children -out in the Colorado mountains, who never had a Christmas present in -their lives, and didn’t know anything about such times as we have? I -was thinking what if we could make up a box and put into it all the -dollies, and balls, and jack-knives, and things that we don’t want, and -some books, and perhaps a little candy, and send it out there, wouldn’t -it be nice?” - -[Illustration: THEIR FACES WERE ALREADY SOBERING.] - -“Too late for this year,” said Tom promptly. - -“Why, no, it isn’t; if we hadn’t had any Christmas at all, ever, we -would be willing to have one come to us in January.” - -The boys laughed, and Holly said heartily, “That’s so.” And Hortense -began to tell a story that she had heard Mr. Briggs tell to her uncle, -and the younger ones gathered about her, leaving dolls and paints, and -the interest grew. - -It was the very next day that Hortense and Tom and Holly went to Dr. -Parsons’ house to see Mr. Briggs. - -“Why, yes,” he said, looking perfectly delighted with them, when Holly -explained; “let me tell you about a brave little chap out there, only -eleven years old; his father was guide to the tourists who wanted to -climb the dangerous and difficult mountains, and lost his life from -exposure, hunting a party of men who had strayed away. Little Teddy -is as brave as a soldier. He is a guide himself, though so young, and -getting to be one of the surest and safest to be found in that region, -only he is so young and small yet, that strangers are afraid to trust -him. A dreary life Teddy leads; he and his mother live all alone in a -little house at the foot of a mountain. The boy has only the clothes -which his father left, made over for him the best way his mother can. -He never had anything that fitted him; and he never had any playthings -in his life, only what he picked up; as for knives, or balls, or any -of the things which boys like him enjoy, I don’t know what he would -think if one should happen to come to him. You needn’t suppose that -he hasn’t heard all about Christmas; his mother used to live in a -farmhouse in New York State, and the stories she has told have almost -driven him wild. A few rods away from their cottage lives a family with -five children—three little girls, and a four-year-old boy and a baby. I -happen to know that Teddy set his heart this year on having some sort -of a Christmas present for every one of those children—and failed! I -did not mean that he should, but I was sick at just the wrong time -after I reached home, and my plans did not work. I heard from there -only last night, and poor Teddy’s plans did not work, either.” - -Holly had his note book and pencil in hand. “Will you give us his full -name and address?” he said. - -Such a time as the cousins had packing that box! Every baby of them -contributed, not only the toys which they did not want, but a few that -they loved, and parted from with sighs. The same may be said of the -elder cousins, especially when it came to books; Holly was a miser -where these were concerned, and Hortense knew how to sympathize with -him. It took these two several hours to be willing to pack in that box -some of their handsomely bound volumes, written by favorite authors. - -But they had to go; for Mr. Briggs, among other things, had said, “I -never saw a boy so hungry for reading in my life as Teddy; and he has -only scraps of old newspapers, which he has picked up from time to time -among the tourists.” - -And more than books and toys went into that box. - -“It is a shame for a fellow to have no clothes that fit him!” declared -Tom. “I’ve been there myself, and I know how it feels. I had to wear my -brother Dick’s overcoat once, and it was too large for me. Mr. Briggs -says he is about the size of Roger”—he meant Teddy, and not Mr. Briggs. -“We must ask mother about that.” - -They asked her to such purpose, and Aunt Cornelia as well, that two -neat suits of Roger’s and Cousin Harry’s second best clothes went into -the box. - -The day in which it was finally packed was a jubilee. The cousins were -all invited to Aunt Cornelia’s to supper, and packed the box in the -large dining-room after supper, with a little of Aunt Cornelia’s and -Uncle Roger’s help. - -“I don’t know as I ever had so much fun in my life,” said Holly, -looking up from the driving of the last nail to make the remark. “It -is better than Christmas a dozen times; in fact it is a Christmas -extension.” - -“And won’t it be fun to hear from Teddy?” said Hortense. - -But as for us, we cannot expect to hear from Teddy until January. - - PANSY. - - -[Illustration: THE BELLS SWING AND RING.] - - - - - -VOICES OF THE BELLS. - - - IN yonder tower high hangs the brazen bell, - Tolling, tolling; - Upon the frosty air its echoes heave and swell, - Tolling, tolling: - The bell has a tongue that is easily heard; - When it is swung many hearts may be stirred, - Though its tale it tells with never a word— - Tolling, tolling. - - It swings and dings in the morning air, - Ringing, ringing! - Tells of the birth of a baby fair, - Ringing, ringing! - Tells the glad news so that all may know; - Those in the village asleep below, - Those on the streets moving to and fro— - Ringing, ringing! - - Aloft it swings in the schoolhouse tower, - Dinging, dinging; - With brazen tongue it proclaims the hour, - Dinging, dinging: - Calls to the work of storing the mind - With useful knowledge of every kind, - Urging the laggards left far behind, - Dinging, dinging. - - Gently it swings in the steeple high, - Pealing, pealing; - The steeple that points to the upper sky, - Pealing, pealing: - Calling to worship on hallowed day, - Calling the faithful to come and pray, - Even to those who are far away— - Pealing, pealing. - - Again it calls in a joyful tone, - Ringing, ringing! - Hinting that man should not walk alone, - Ringing, ringing! - And so they throng with the bridal pair, - And the glad bells sound on the clear sweet air, - For the bells all ring for the belle so fair— - Ringing, ringing! - - Ah, me! but that tongue will swing again, - Tolling, tolling; - Swing again with a solemn strain, - Tolling, tolling: - It will tell how some one beloved has died, - How the cold dark earth has claimed his bride; - And ’twill seem in its strains as though it sighed— - Tolling, tolling. - - But the bells above may swing and ring, - Swinging, ringing, - In the temple towers of the Lord the King, - Swinging, ringing; - And the bells below, with the bells up there, - May sound their joys for this Child and Heir, - Who is called to heaven its joys to share— - Swinging, ringing. - G. R. A. - -[Illustration: THE BELL HAS A TONGUE THAT IS EASILY HEARD.] - - - - -EASTER LILIES. - - - A STALK of tall white lilies - Bloomed out in a garden fair; - Their breath, so sweet and fragrant, - Scented the ambient air. - - As Easter day came on apace, - It seemed as if they tried - To grow still sweeter, for the morn - When rose the Crucified. - - When dawned the holy Easter tide, - And they were full in bloom, - A sad-eyed woman gathered them - And laid them on a tomb. - - And as she knelt in deepest woe - Beside the flower-decked mound, - And felt that all her hope was dead, - The lilies’ fragrance stole around. - - It stole into her wounded breast; - The sacred odors seemed to be - A message for her bleeding heart— - “The Crucified pities thee.” - CAROLINE STRATTON VALENTINE. - -[Illustration: THE BELL HANGS IN THE TOWER.] - - - - -CHARACTER STUDIES. - - -I. - -EDWARD STEADMAN was at home for the Christmas holidays. Everybody -was glad to see him, of course, particularly his mother; because in -the first place mothers always are a little bit more glad over the -home-coming of their boys than anybody else in the world can be, and -secondly because she needed some help very much, and knew that he -could give it. She explained matters to him that morning: “I want to -get Grandma’s room all in order, Edward, and her new carpet down, and -every thing, before Christmas, you know; and we shall have to work -like bees. I’m so glad you came home this week, instead of stopping at -your uncle’s first. To-day we can hang all her pictures, and put up -the curtains and the wall-pockets, and do things of that kind; they -will not make a speck of dust in putting down the carpet—it is new, -you know. I want to get all those things done to-day, they are so -puttering—take a great deal of time and judgment. I’m so glad to have -you to depend upon; you are such a tall boy that you can reach where -mother can’t; and Dick is so clumsy I hate to have him stumping about -Grandma’s room. Your father was going to help me, though he did not -know how to spare the time; he was as pleased as could be when I told -him that you could do it all. ‘Sure enough!’ he said; ‘we have got a -boy to depend upon once more; how good it seems!’” - -The sentence closed with a fond smile, and such a look in the mother’s -eyes as ought to have made a boy happy. Edward was happy; he whistled -as he went down the stairs, and thought to himself that there were not -many fellows who had such a mother as his, and that he would show her -just how tall, and how handy and how wise he was. - -She called after him as she heard the street door open. - -“Where are you going, Edward? We ought to get right to work; it will be -an all-day job, do the best we can, and the light is good in Grandma’s -room now for hanging the pictures. Must you go to the post-office -first? O, well! that is but a short distance; run along, and get back -as soon as you can.” - -“Halloo!” said Mr. Arkwright, the postmaster, who had known Edward -ever since he was a little fellow in kilts and curls, “back again, are -you? How you do shoot up, to be sure! I believe you are about a foot -taller than you were in the fall. Here’s your mail; nothing but papers -this time, but enough of them to snow you under!” And he pitched them -through the little window so fast that they fell to the right and left. - -“Catalogues, some of them,” said Edward, smiling; “I asked them to send -me a number of the new ones; and the reports of our commencement and -society exercises are in these papers.” - -“Like enough,” said Mr. Arkwright; “had a grand time, I suppose? You -carried off a first prize, I hear? Glad of it. I always knew it was in -you. Do you happen to be going directly home? If you are, would you -mind taking this letter and handing it in at Westlake’s as you pass? I -see it is marked ‘Important,’ and it may save him some trouble to get -it right away. He’s all alone in the office to-day; his boy is sick.” - -“Certainly, sir,” said Edward, reaching for the letter, and dropping it -into his jacket pocket. Then he walked away, looking steadily at one of -the papers, which he had already opened. - -“I do not see what in the world can have detained Edward!” said Mrs. -Steadman, speaking as well as she could with her mouth full of tacks. -She was mounted on a box which in its turn was mounted on a chair, and -was trying to reach to fasten the curtain in Grandma’s room. - -“I should think you would wait for him,” said her daughter Fannie -anxiously. “You ought not to climb up like that, mother; father would -not like it at all, and I’m afraid you will fall. You are not high -enough yet to get it right.” - -“I know it; and I can’t drive a nail away up here, either. I cannot -understand why Edward doesn’t come; it seems as though something must -have happened to him. I explained to him particularly what a hurry we -were in, and how much there was in which he could help me.” - -[Illustration: “CERTAINLY, SIR,” SAID EDWARD.] - -“What has happened to him is that he has found something to read, I -suppose, and has seated himself somewhere to enjoy it.” Fannie spoke a -little irritably; she was worried about her mother, and they had been -waiting for Edward for more than two hours. The short December day was -hurrying toward its noon, and nothing had been done of the many things -in which he was to have been a central figure. Fannie was very fond of -her brother, but she realized his besetments better than the others -did, or at least she said more about them. - -“O, no!” said the mother decidedly, taking a tack out of her mouth to -enable her to speak plainly; “Edward wouldn’t do that, after all I said -to him this morning. He knew how anxious we were to have everything -ready for Grandma by Christmas. Something unusual has happened, I feel -sure. I don’t know but Tommy would better run out and see if he can -find him, only it seems rather absurd to be sending out in search of a -big boy like Edward.” - -“I should think so!” Fannie said, and they waited another half-hour. -Then a sharp ring at the door-bell startled Mrs. Steadman so that she -nearly lost her balance. Fannie screamed a little, and ran toward her. - -“I didn’t fall,” she said, leaning against the window-casing for -support; “but I think I shall have to get down. I don’t see what makes -me so nervous. It seems all the time as though something was going to -happen; I suppose it is because Edward doesn’t come. Did Jane go to the -door?” - -Yes, Jane had; and now they listened and heard Mr. Westlake’s, their -neighbor’s, voice. - -“Is Edward here?” - -No, Jane said, somewhat shortly, he was not; and as to where he was, -that was more than they knew. Jane had been called from her work three -times that morning to help with something which Edward could have done, -and she did not feel sweet-natured. - -“Well, I wish you would ask your folks if they have any idea where I -might find him,” Mr. Westlake said anxiously; “I have just come from -the office—it was the first chance I had for going this morning—and -Arkwright says he sent a letter to me marked ‘Important’—sent it by -Edward nearly three hours ago, he should think. I have some business -matters that are very important, and I thought this might be a summons -to me to go away on the express, and there is but a half-hour or less -before it goes.” - -Before this long sentence was finished Mrs. Steadman was at the door; -but she had no information to give, and could only tell the annoyed man -that she was sorry, and that she could not imagine what had detained -Edward. - -“I can,” muttered Jane, as he turned hurriedly away; “his own sweet -notion is detaining him; he’s enjoying himself somewhere, readin’ a -book or paper, and letting others get along the best way they can.” But -Jane was only talking to herself. - -The Steadman dinner bell was sounding through the house when Edward, -flushed and embarrassed, came bounding up the stairs two steps at a -time, to assure his mother how sorry he was. - -“I hadn’t the least idea how time was going,” he explained; “never -was so astonished in my life as I was to hear the bell ring for noon! -Why, you see,” in answer to her anxious questions, “I got a lot of -papers at the office—all about our closing days, you know; of course I -was anxious to see what they said about the examinations, and essays, -and things, so I stepped into Dr. Mason’s office just to glance them -over. The doctor was out, and I sat and read first one thing and then -another, and talked a little with folks who kept coming in search of -the doctor, until, to my utter astonishment, as I tell you, I heard the -bell.” - -“Then nothing detained you, Edward?” - -“Why, no, ma’am; nothing but the papers, as I tell you. I had not the -faintest idea”— - -She interrupted him. “Have you seen Mr. Westlake?” - -“Yes’m,” and now Edward’s face crimsoned; “I met him on the street and -gave him his letter. I’m dreadfully sorry about that; almost as sorry -as I am about keeping you waiting, mother.” - -“He said it might want him to take the train; do you know if it did?” - -“Yes’m, it did.” - -“And he missed it?” - -“Why, of course, mother dear; the train goes at eleven, you know. I’m -awfully sorry. It is perfectly unaccountable what has become of this -forenoon!” - -Mrs. Steadman made no comment; she did not want to trust herself to do -so just then. She turned away with a sigh so deep that it would have -cut Edward’s heart, had he heard it. - -And Jane nodded her gray head and muttered, “I told you so!” - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - - - - -A TEN-DOLLAR CHRISTMAS. - - -ADELE CHESTER had never spent a Christmas in the country before; -neither had she ever felt quite so desolate. Mother and father were in -Europe, in search of health for the father, and Adele, who had been -left in charge of Aunt Martha, had herself decreed that she would go -nowhere for Christmas. - -“I can’t be happy and frolic when papa is sick,” she said; “and as for -the country, if Aunt Martha can live there all her life, I think I can -endure one Christmas.” So she had staid; but it must be confessed that -the world looked dreary to her that wintry morning, with nothing but -snow to be seen from her window. She almost thought she would have been -wiser to have joined the Philadelphia cousins. “At least there would -have been a chance to spend my Christmas money,” she murmured gloomily, -as she tapped on the frosty window pane with restless fingers. “I’m -sure I don’t know what I can buy in this little tucked-up place.” - -The “tucked-up place” was really a nice town with about five thousand -people living in it, but to Adele, whose home was in New York City, -it seemed absurd to call it a town. Aunt Martha’s farmhouse was only -half a mile from some very good stores, where Adele had found a few -things to suit her during the three months she had spent there, and on -the whole she had managed to be quite happy. But she did not feel like -being suited with anything this morning. Such a queer Christmas for -her! She had had her presents, as usual—a new fur cap from Aunt Martha, -a writing-desk well furnished from Uncle Peter, a lovely ring with a -real diamond in it from mamma, and a new chain for her pretty watch -from papa. What more could a reasonable girl want? Truth to tell, she -wanted nothing but the dear home, and mamma’s kisses, and papa’s arms -around her. The ring and chain were beautiful, but they did not seem -like presents from them, when she knew they crossed the ocean weeks -ago, and had been lying in Aunt Martha’s bureau drawer waiting for this -morning. She valued the letter more which had arrived only the night -before, and she drew it from her pocket and kissed it, letting a tear -or two fall on the words, “My Darling Child,” as she read them once -more. “Papa and I are so sorry to be away from you to-day,” the letter -read; “we have tried to find something suitable to send on so long a -journey, and planned to reach you on the very day, but have failed; -papa has not been well enough to look about much for a few weeks, and -I could not go alone. At last we decided to send you a fifty-dollar -bank note and bid you go and spend it in the way which would make you -happiest.” - -“The idea!” said Adele, smiling through her tears, as she refolded -the letter, “just as though I could find anything here to buy to make -me happy! Mamma must have forgotten for the moment where I was. Yet I -want a few things, some Christmas bonbons, at least, if they know the -meaning of the word in this little place, and above all, I want a brisk -walk in the snow. I shall take ten dollars of my fifty, and go out and -spend it; I won’t waste another cent on this old town. I wonder what I -can do with ten dollars to make me happy?” She laughed half scornfully. -Ten dollars seemed so very little to this girl, who had always spent -money as freely as water, and done as little thinking about it as the -birds do over the spring cherries. - -In a very few minutes she was wrapped in furs and out upon the snowy -road. Aunt Martha offered her the sleigh and the driver, and her -“leggings” and woollen mittens, but she would have none of them. She -was a good walker, and had been used to miles in the city. She hid her -nose in her muff, because the wind over this wide stretch of snow was -very keen, and sped along “like a snowbird,” Aunt Martha said, watching -her from the window. And then she sighed, this dear old auntie whom the -country satisfied. She saw the shade on the face of her darling this -morning, and was sorry for her, and wished so much that she could do -something to brighten her Christmas day. - -The little town was reached in due time, and the streets were gay with -Christmas finery; the stores were open quite generally, to catch the -belated Christmas buyers. In an hour or two they would close for the -day; but the custom in this thriving manufacturing town was to give -the tardy ones a Christmas morning chance. Adele went from one store -to another, dissatisfied, disconsolate. Nothing suited her. The truth -is, when a girl does not need an earthly thing, and is yet determined -to spend some money, she is sometimes rather difficult to suit. She -halted at last before a show window and looked at the bright fineries -displayed there. So did little Janey Hooper, who had come out with ten -cents to buy a soup bone for the day’s dinner. Adele, turning from the -window, jostled against her, and looked down upon the mite. She seemed -not more than eight, yet there was a wise, grown-up look in her eyes -which held the homesick girl’s attention. - -“Are you trying to make Christmas too? What do you see in the window -you like?” - -“Everything,” said the little girl simply. - -“Do you? you are fortunate. Are you going to buy them all?” - -“O, no! not a single one. I couldn’t.” - -Adele, looking closely at her, was seized with a sudden impulse. -“Suppose you could buy one thing, what would it be?” she asked. - -The little girl’s eyes flashed. “Oh! I would buy that shawl—that soft -gray one with pussy fringe—it looks just like mother.” - -It was a dingy little shoulder shawl, of the kind which can be bought -for two dollars. “Does your mother need a shawl?” asked Adele. - -“O, yes’m! she needs it badly enough; but we are not going to get one, -not this year; we can’t.” - -There was decision and composure in the tone, like a woman who had -settled the whole question, and put it beyond the range of argument. -Her manner amused Adele. - -“That was for your mother,” she said; “what would you choose for -yourself?” - -“Me?” said the child, surprised. “Oh! I don’t know. I might take that -brown coat, maybe, or some mittens, or—I don’t know which I would take. -What’s the use?” - -She was turning away; but Adele’s gloved hand detained her. The little -sack she wore was much too thin for so cold a morning. - -“Wait a minute,” she said gently. “Tell me what your name is, won’t -you, and where you live, and what you came out for this cold morning -with so thin a sack?” - -“I’m Janey Hooper; we live down there on Factory Lane. It wasn’t far to -go, and my sack is worn out, that is why it is so thin; but it will do -very well for this winter. I came out to buy the Christmas dinner.” - -“Did you, indeed! Aren’t you very young to go to market?” - -“O, no, ma’am! I’m turned nine, and the oldest of four, and father’s -dead. Of course I have to do all I can. I know how to choose a lovely -soup bone.” - -“Do you? Are you going to have soup to-day?” - -“Yes’m, a big kettle full; I’ve got ten cents to buy a bone with. I -generally get a five-cent one; but we thought for Christmas we would -have it fine. My brother is to be home to dinner; he is most twelve, -and likes soup.” - -There was a mist before Adele’s eyes that the frosty air did not make. -She brushed it away and settled her plans. - -“Come in here with me a minute,” she said; “I want your help about -something.” The child followed her wonderingly, with eyes that grew -every moment larger, as the thick brown coat which hung on a wire -figure was taken down and deliberately tried by the smiling shop girl -on her quaint little self. - -“It fits to a T,” said the girl; “Janey has a pretty figure, and that -just suits her.” - -“It is warm, at least,” said Adele. “Did you say it was two and a -half? What an absurd price! Keep it on, child; it is for you. This is -Christmas, you know, and Santa Claus sent it to you. Now that shoulder -shawl.” - -A moment more, and it was in Janey’s astonished arms. Her eyes -sparkled, but she made an earnest protest: “Oh! if you please, I don’t -think I can; I am afraid mother would not”— - -“Your mother cannot help herself,” interrupted Adele. “Don’t you know I -told you it was Santa Claus? He does what he likes always. Come along, -I’m going to market with you; I want to see you pick out a soup bone. -Is it to go in that basket?” - -She picked it out with grave care and with skill, Adele and the market -man watching her the while. “Isn’t it a nice one, Bobby?” said the -child, to a stout boy who had also stopped. Adele turned as the -freckled boy nodded. - -“Who is this? Is he a friend of yours? Well, Bobby, Santa Claus wants -you to do an errand for him, will you? He will give you four of those -red-cheeked apples if you will.” - -The boy laughed good-naturedly, and said he didn’t know much about -Santa Claus, but he would do whatever she wanted done. - -“Very well,” said Adele merrily; “I want that market basket which hangs -up there. Can you lend it to this boy for a little while?” The market -man declared his entire willingness to do so, and kept Janey Hooper -waiting for her bone while he filled that basket with everything which -Adele’s eyes could discover, which might add to a Christmas dinner. -There was a plump chicken, a roast of beef, a string of sausage, some -potatoes, apples, onions, turnips, a great bunch of celery, and, in -short, whatever the market man suggested, after the girl’s skill was -exhausted. - -“Is that too heavy for you?” said Adele. - -“O, no, ma’am!” Bobby assured her. - -“Very well; I want you to take it to this little girl’s mother’s house, -and tell her Santa Claus sent it to go with the soup, and that it has -given him a happy Christmas to do so. Will you remember?” - -He nodded brightly, stuffing rosy-cheeked apples into his pocket the -while, and they trudged away, Janey trying to murmur her bewildered -protests, while Adele paid her bill. - -“I’ve spent every cent of my ten dollars,” she told Aunt Martha an hour -later. “I hadn’t even enough to buy you any Christmas bonbons; but -I have obeyed mamma’s directions; I was to buy something to make me -happy, and I haven’t felt so happy in weeks as I do this minute. When I -get my things put away I’ll come down and tell you all about it.” - -Aunt Martha watched her bound up the stairs, a glow on her cheeks and -a sparkle in her eyes which they had lacked when she went out; and -whatever the purchase had been, she was grateful. - -As for Janey Hooper and her mother, to say nothing of Bobby, who took -dinner with them, you must imagine how they felt. - - PANSY. - -[Illustration: MAKING THE SHEEP CLEAN.] - - - - -MISS PARKER’S GIRLS. - - -THERE were thirteen of them, all told. An “unlucky number,” one of -them said, and laughed; they were girls who did not believe in “luck.” -They laughed a great deal during these days, and were very happy. They -had as lovely a secret on their minds as thirteen girls, all of them -between the ages of eleven and thirteen, ever had. They were also very -busy, and held many committee meetings, and discussed plans, and went -in companies of twos and threes to transact business. “We were never so -busy before at this time of year, were we?” they said to one another. -“And we never had so much fun in our lives!” some one would be sure to -say. To this sentiment they all agreed. - -“This time of year” was a few days before Christmas. The preparations -for Christmas, so far as these girls are concerned, began two weeks -before. It started on Sunday afternoon in the Bible class. Miss Parker -had been even more interesting than usual that day. She succeeded in so -filling their hearts with the lesson, especially with one thought in -it, that Cora Henderson said, half enviously: - -“O, dear! I can’t help wishing that we had lived in those times. Of -course it was dreadful; but then, after all, it gave one such splendid -opportunities! Think of John having a chance to take Jesus’ mother home -and do for her. And to know that Jesus wanted him to, and was pleased -with it! I think it would have been just lovely; there are no such -chances nowadays,” and Cora, aged thirteen, sighed. - -Miss Parker smiled on her brightly. “Are you sure of that, my dear -girl? Remember we are talking about a history which is different from -any other in the world, because Jesus is ‘the same yesterday, to-day -and forever.’” - -“O, yes’m!” Cora said civilly; “I know it; but then, of course, things -are different. His mother is not here on earth for us to take care of; -I should love to do it, I know I should,” and Cora’s fair face glowed, -and her eyes had a sweet and tender light in them. - -Miss Parker looked at her fondly. “My dear child,” she said, “I think -you would; but do you forget how He said, ‘Whosoever shall do the will -of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother and sister and -mother’?” - -Cora looked a little bewildered, and Miss Parker explained. - -“I think we all forget that according to that verse Jesus has many -‘mothers’ on earth, in the persons of his dear old saints, who are -poor, and weak, and tired, and are only waiting to be called home. -There are so many things we could do for their comfort, if we only -remembered that they were the same to Jesus as his own dear mother.” - -The girls looked at one another wonderingly. This was a new way of -putting it. Cora did more than look. “What a lovely thought!” she -said; “I should never have thought it out for myself, but it must be -so, because what would that verse mean if it were not? O, Miss Parker! -couldn’t we girls do it? Do you know of any old lady whom we could help -a little—make a pretty Christmas for, perhaps? Girls, wouldn’t you all -like to do it?” - -So that was the beginning. Yes, Miss Parker knew an old lady; had had -her in mind all the week; had wondered how she could set to work to -interest her dear girls in her. She needed a great deal of help, and -Miss Parker had very little of this world’s goods. She knew that some -of her girls came from homes where there was plenty. “But I do not like -to be always begging,” she told her mother. Then she had asked the Lord -Jesus to show her some way of interesting the girls in poor Grandmother -Blakslee. And here they were asking for the name of an old lady whom -they could help! What a lovely answer it was to her prayer. - -[Illustration: “NOW LET US ASK A BLESSING.”] - -Grandmother Blakslee’s story was a sad one, though only too common. -Her two daughters and her one son had died long years before, leaving -a little granddaughter, who had grown to girlhood and married a -worthless drunkard, who deserted her, and at last she died, leaving to -Grandmother Blakslee the care of her poor little baby boy. In many ways -life had gone hard with Grandmother Blakslee; and now in her old age, -when she was too feeble to work, the thing which she had dreaded most -in the world, next to sin, had come to her door. She could no longer -pay the rent for her one little bare room, and must send her little boy -to the orphan asylum, and go herself to the poorhouse. It seemed a very -pitiful thing to Grandmother Blakslee that she should have had to plan -to leave the bare little room on Christmas morning, but that happened -to be the day when it was convenient for the man who had promised to -take her and her old arm-chair. Poor little Johnnie was to go with -her for that one day, and the next morning he was to be taken in the -market wagon to the asylum. Poor Grandmother Blakslee! her heart was -very sad and sore, but she tried to keep her face quiet and peaceful -for Johnnie’s sake. She had not been able to make the little fellow -understand that he was to be separated from her; the most he realized -was that they were to take a ride together and spend the day in a big -house, and he was happy. On the little three-cornered table was set a -dish with baked potatoes and warm rolls, and the teapot stood near it; -a neighbor only a little less poor than themselves had remembered them. -Grandmother tried to have only thankfulness in her heart; but could she -forget that she had lived in that town more than sixty years, and been -a member of the church all that time? Occasionally she could not help -feeling it was strange that there could have been no other way but to -go to the poorhouse. “It won’t be long now for me,” she told herself, -“and I should like to have kept Johnnie while I staid, poor little -boy! But it was not to be.” Then she smothered a sigh and said, “Come, -Johnnie, let us ask a blessing, then we will have our last breakfast -alone together.” - -It was while Johnnie stood with clasped hands, saying after Grandmother -the words of blessing, that a knock was heard at the little door. “Come -in,” said Grandmother Blakslee the moment the words of prayer were -spoken, and a strange head was thrust in at the door. - -“I can wait, ma’am,” said the owner of it respectfully. “I’m to take -you in my rig, and my orders were to wait until you were ready.” - -“Did Mr. Patterson send you?” asked Grandma, her voice all in a -tremble. “I thought he meant to come himself, and I thought he said -about ten o’clock; but we’ll hurry, Johnnie and me; we won’t keep you -long. Can you take the chair, too?” - -“Yes’m; them’s my orders; and no hurry in life, ma’am, take your time,” -and he closed the door. - -Johnnie stuffed in the buns and potatoes, and pronounced them good; but -poor Grandmother Blakslee only swallowed a few mouthfuls of tea which -almost choked her. Life was very hard. - -She was soon ready; it would not do to keep Mr. Patterson’s team -waiting. But she stared at it when she came out. It was not the market -wagon; instead it was a handsome two-horse sleigh, with gay robes’ on -the seats, and gay bells on the handsome horses. “You needn’t be at -all afraid, ma’am,” said the strange man, “these horses is gentle as -kittens, if they do love to go,” and he lifted her in as though she had -been a kitten, tucked Johnnie under the robes beside her, and before -she could get her breath to speak they were off. Just a gay dash around -the corner, down one familiar street, up another, and they halted -before a tiny white house set back among tall trees which staid green -even in winter. - -“There is some mistake,” faltered Grandma Blakslee, more breathless -than ever. “I wasn’t to be brought here; I was to go to the asylum out -on the Corning Road, near two miles; I don’t know the folks that live -here; I didn’t know it was rented.” - -The strange man chuckled. “I guess there’s no mistake,” he said, “and -you’ll like to make their acquaintance; anyhow, I must do my duty and -leave you here; I’m under orders.” - -Trembling and bewildered, poor Grandma, because she did not know what -else to do, let herself be set down in front of the door, which the -man opened hospitably, saying as he did so, “Step right in; the folks -that live here will be glad to see you.” Then he shut the door and went -away. They were left, Grandmother and Johnnie, in a little hall opening -into a pretty room at the right. The door was wide open, and a bright -fire burned in a shining stove. There was a bright carpet on the floor; -there was a rose in blossom in one window, and some geraniums in the -other. There was a large easy chair in front of the stove, with a table -beside it on which was set out a lovely breakfast for two. On the stove -the tea-kettle sang, and some genuine tea in a little brown teapot on -the right-hand corner back, sent out its delicious aroma. In an alcove, -behind some pretty curtains which were partly drawn, waited a plump -white bed; and Grandma Blakslee stood in the midst of all this luxury -and stared. - -“Grandma,” said Johnnie, “have we got there? Is this the big house? -Where are all the folks? Where is this, and whose breakfast is that? -Are we to eat it, Grandma? It is nicer than ours. Why don’t you sit -down in that pretty chair? Here is a little one for me, with wed -cushions. Can’t we stay here every day, Grandma?” - -Grandma, feeling unable to stand another minute, tottered forward and -dropped into the softness of the easy chair, and spied, tucked under -the edge of a plate, a sheet of folded paper. Then she fumbled for -what Johnnie called the “speticles that could wead,” and read: - - Welcome home, dear Grandma Blakslee. Merry Christmas to - you and Johnnie. - - FROM MISS PARKER’S GIRLS. - -No, they hadn’t “done it every bit themselves.” There had been several -fathers and mothers who were glad to help, as soon as they thought -about it. Cora Henderson’s father had said, “Why, Grandma Blakslee -might live in the little empty cottage this winter and welcome;” he -wondered they had not thought of it before. Anna Smith’s mother said -she would be glad to get rid of that carpet rolled up in the attic; -she had no use for it, and it was a pattern she had never liked. Ella -Stuart’s mother said the old arm-chair and the old lounge would do -nicely if they were re-covered, and she was sure she did not want them. -And so the plan grew and grew, and the girls were O, so busy and happy! -It was the best Christmas of their lives, they all declared, especially -after they made their call on Grandma, and found her almost too happy. - -“It is almost pitiful,” said Anna Smith, “to see a poor woman cry for -joy over one little room and a few old duds!” - -And Cora Henderson, with her eyes shining like stars, said, “Isn’t it -lovely? I’m so glad that verse is in the Bible, and Miss Parker thought -it all out!” - - PANSY. - - - - -A SABBATH IN A BOARDING-SCHOOL IN TURKEY. - - -II. - -I MUST explain that some time before this I had learned that the boys -in the boarding-school who had no pocket money, could not go to the -bath as often as I thought they ought. While I was considering this -problem, an Armenian gentleman gave me something over two dollars to -use as I saw fit. Thinking “cleanliness next to godliness,” though the -Bible does not say it in just those words, I used to give Deekran a -quarter or so now and then to use for himself and the other poor boys. - -When they rose to go, I asked Sumpad if he could stop a moment, I -wanted to have a little talk with him. How glad I was to find that he -had a hope in Christ, and was trying to live for him. It was a great -privilege to speak a few words of sympathy and encouragement. - -How can I believe the terrible news that has just come to me here in -free America? How can I think of him in his young, Christian manhood -as dead in a horrible Turkish dungeon! Why, what had he done? He had -written a few lines of boyish admiration for the heroes of his own -race, the Armenians. And so he must die alone of typhus fever after a -four months’ imprisonment, utterly cut off from all his friends. Poor -young martyr! No one could get access to him; yes, there was one Friend -whose entrance neither bolts nor bars could prevent—the King of heaven -and earth; what need of any other? Death has now unlocked the prison -door, and opened the gate of heaven; no more tears should be shed for -him—happy young martyr. - -But I have wandered far, both as to place and time, far from that -peaceful, happy Sabbath. - -It was now lunch time; then came Sabbath-school. The men and boys met -in the chapel, but as it was not large enough to accommodate more, the -women’s, girls’ and the infant class met elsewhere. Isgoohe, a member -of the senior class in the high school, took charge of the second of -these. After going over the lesson, she began to ask personal questions: - -“Now, girls, what have you done for Jesus this week?” - -A hand was raised. - -“What is it, Marta?” - -“I let Funduk have my comb for Jesus’ sake. It was such a nice one, I -did not like to have her use it; but Miss Goulding told me I ought to -be kind to Funduk.” - -Then Armenoohe said that going home from school one day, a girl she -did not know very well called out, “Armenoohe, run and get me another -clog; mine’s broken.” (The clog is a wooden sole with a heel at each -end, as it were, and a leather strap to slip the foot into. These heels -are from one to three or four inches in height, and raise the foot well -out of the mud or snow.) “At first,” said she, “I thought that it was -no affair of mine, and that the girl was rather impudent to ask such a -thing. Then I remembered what you told us, Isgoohe, about not pleasing -ourselves; so I asked her which was her house, and got the clog and -brought it to her, and she never even thanked me!” (It was not so very -long since Armenoohe herself had learned to say “thank you.”) - -Two or three others told their little efforts at denying self; then the -bell rang for the afternoon service. - -In the evening I invited any who wished to talk with me to come to my -room. Soon afterward Rakel came. She was rather a pretty girl, with -bright red hair; she was full of fun, and a dreadful tease. She dropped -on to the hassock at my side in a bashful sort of a way. - -“Was there something you wanted to say, Rakel?” - -“Yes,” came the whispered answer; “I want to love my companions.” - -I enlarged a little upon the duty and privilege of loving others, -and then waited for her to speak; but she was silent so long, that I -finally asked if there was anything else she wished to say. - -“Yes; how can I love those who make me angry?” - -Well, that was a problem, to be sure! But then, the dear Saviour can -help us solve every problem, so we knelt and prayed, both of us, for -his help in this particular matter. - -She had been gone but a minute, when her cousin Sarra came, Bible in -hand, to ask the meaning of the verse, “Whether therefore ye eat, or -drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.” There were -several other verses she wanted explained, and then by a little gentle -questioning, I learned some more of the trouble between her and Rakel, -who she said was always teasing her, using her books, and leaving them -about carelessly. Then she hung her head and confessed that when she -found her Bible on the divan, and Fido tearing out a leaf, she had at -once blamed Rakel, and retaliated by getting her Bible and banging it -on to the floor. - -“Was that right, Sarra? Do you think that was one way to glorify God?” - -“No,” she replied honestly, but her voice was low and husky. Then we -talked of the way Christ bore with men and their cruelty and sins, and -we asked him to make us gentle and patient, kind to others, even when -they were unkind to us. - -The retiring bell tinkled through the hall, and so ended the beautiful, -blessed day. - - HARRIET G. POWERS, _in the Evangelist._ - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: GOOD FUN!] - -[Illustration: THE BATTLE IS ON.] - - - - -[Illustration: HE WAS COMING FROM THE OLD WELL.] - - - - -“WHAT IF I HAD!” - - -NEW YEAR’S morning and the snow lying deep over all the paths, drifted -even to the tops of the fences! Plenty of work for Stephen Watson; -he frowned a little as he looked out of his attic window in the cold -gray of the early morning and saw his nicely-made paths all carefully -covered. But almost before the frown had cleared away he laughed, -and broke at last into a cheery whistle. “No great loss without some -gain.” He stopped to make this wise remark aloud, then went on with his -whistling. What he longed for just now was a holiday—a chance to take a -run across lots to Dick Wheeler’s home and see the new book which his -uncle sent him for Christmas. A beautifully bound book with “oceans of -pictures,” and telling all about a journey to Europe. “Not a stupid -history,” Dick reported, “but a regular story, telling all about how -some folks went and had jolly times, and saw no end of things, and -described them.” Stephen’s brain was fairly whirling with a desire to -examine this book. It may as well be owned that a book of almost any -sort had wonderful attractions for this boy; and books and papers, and -indeed reading matter of any kind, were painfully scarce in the country -farmhouse where Stephen was chore boy. Mrs. Griggs, the mistress, did -not more than half believe in them; she eyed even Stephen’s Geography -with suspicion, and occasionally asked her husband “What sense there -was in that boy’s learning where all the rivers and mountains in -creation with outlandish names were to be found. What good would it do -him? He would never find them outside of a book.” - -Well, Stephen had smiled and whistled, because he saw that this heavy -fall of snow was likely to further his plans for a holiday. If it had -only drifted enough to make the roads to the ledge farm impassable then -Mr. and Mrs. Griggs would stay at home and take care of the house, and -when his chores were done, he might possibly be allowed to go over to -Dick’s. - -Everything seemed to be shaping according to his plans. Mr. Griggs -remarked at the breakfast table that there “wouldn’t be no sense in -trying to get to Mary Ann’s that day; the ledge road always drifted -if it could get a chance, and the wind was still blowing in that -direction.” Mrs. Griggs had sighed, it is true, and said that “Mary -Ann would be dreadfully disappointed,” but she, too, had said that she -supposed there was no use in trying to go. - -Stephen went about his chores with a will, a trifle sorry for Mrs. -Griggs, and a little curious over the idea that anybody in the world -could be much disappointed over not receiving a visit from her and -Mr. Griggs. “But then I suppose it is because they are her father -and mother, and that makes a difference,” said this orphan boy, with -a sigh. But he could not help being glad that they were not to go. -What if he got the chores all done so early that there were several -hours before dinner, and Mr. Griggs would let him go in the forenoon? -Wouldn’t that be a lark worthy of the day! Dick Wheeler’s mother was -always good-natured, and twice she had asked him to stay to supper with -Dick; there was everything to be hoped for in that direction. He was -coming from the old well with two brimming pails of water, when Mr. -Griggs, out by the ash barrel, with his hands in his pockets to keep -them warm, dashed the boy’s hopes to the ground. “Got about through, -Stephen? Then I guess you may hitch up, after all. The wind has gone -down, and Mis’ Griggs is disappointed, and she thinks we better try it. -You may get things ready as fast as you can; we ought to be off if we -are going; then you’ll have a long warm day in the kitchen. Don’t on no -account leave the place; that wouldn’t do, of course.” - -Not a word said Stephen, though he would like to have thrown the pails -of water over Mr. Griggs, and kicked the empty pails into a snowdrift. -He had never been so disappointed in his life! “A long warm day in the -kitchen!” If there was any day which he utterly hated it was such an -one; not even a new almanac to read—Farmer Griggs had been waiting for -one to be sent to him from somewhere, and it had not come. Of course -there was nothing to do but obey; but Stephen felt that he hated New -Year’s dinners, and wished that “Mary Ann” lived fifty miles away, and -hoped that Farmer Griggs would encounter a drift so deep that Mother -Griggs would be rolled over in the snow! Oh! he was fierce enough to -wish almost anything. - -It was because of all this that a very glum-faced boy looked out of -the small-paned kitchen window about two hours afterwards, and watched -a single horse and cutter skim gaily along. Only one person in the -sleigh, and he muffled in furs, and looking as though life was one -long holiday. Stephen believed that everybody but himself was having a -holiday. Suddenly the sleigh drew up in front of their gate. “Halloo!” -said the man in furs, and Stephen ran out and down the snowy path. -“Good-morning! Happy New Year,” said a pleasant voice. “Can you tell me -whether this is the right road to Mr. Bennett’s farm?” - -“Yes, sir, it is.” - -“How far from here to Mr. Bennett’s?” - -“Five miles, sir; but there are none of them at home.” - -“They are not? How do you know that?” - -“I know the boy who drives their horses, and he went by awhile ago; he -was on his way back from Dr. Freeman’s, where he had been to take Miss -Carrie—Mr. Bennett’s daughter—and the boy said his folks were all away -for the day, and he was going to his grandmother’s to dinner.” - -Stephen could not help adding that last, because it had been a very -bitter drop in his cup of trouble. Mr. Bennett’s house could stay -alone, it seemed, while the boy went to his grandmother’s to dinner, -whereas this old farmhouse had to be watched as though there was danger -of its running away. - -“That is the state of things, is it?” said the stranger. “Thank you; I -do not care to take a five-mile drive through these drifts to find a -shut-up house. Can you tell me where Dr. Freeman lives?” - -“He lives about a mile from here; but Miss Carrie Bennett isn’t there -now, sir; she has gone with Miss Freeman to bring a Miss Banks, who -lives two miles west, to eat dinner with them at the doctor’s.” Stephen -told this story with an amused twinkle in his eye; it struck him as a -queer thing that he should be so well posted concerning matters which -evidently interested this handsome stranger. The stranger turned on him -a keen, questioning glance. “You seem to understand your neighbors’ -affairs very well indeed, my boy. How does it happen?” - -Stephen laughed. “Why, Pete just happened to tell me about it, sir; -he said he was in luck, and did not have to drive them there himself, -because the doctor’s team drove up in just the nick of time and took -them. Everybody is in luck except me.” - -“Is that so?” asked the stranger, his face breaking into a genial -smile. “I am certainly, since I have found a quick-witted boy who has -saved me ten miles of useless driving. Can you do me another favor -now, and let me come in and visit with you for awhile, until in your -judgment the doctor’s team has had time to find Miss Banks and bring -her back? I do not happen to be acquainted with any of the party save -Miss Bennett, and would prefer waiting until she is there before I make -my call.” - -Mr. Griggs never refused travelers a chance to warm, and of course -Stephen invited this one into the house and did the honors of the -kitchen as well as he could. Somehow—he never quite understood how it -was—he found himself telling the story of his bitter disappointment to -this stranger—all about the wonderful book full of pictures and stories -of travel. He was astonished afterwards to think how much he talked; -but then, the stranger listened so kindly, and his eyes were so bright, -and his smile so pleasant, and he asked so many questions, it seemed -impossible not to confide in him. - -“So you like books,” he said, as at last he arose; “and books of -travel? Well, I do myself; and it happens curiously enough that I -have a package of books in my sleigh at this moment, two of which I -think you would enjoy. I was taking them to a nephew of mine, and -missed seeing him; probably because it was intended that you should -have them instead. I owe you a debt of gratitude; and I’ll exchange the -information you gave me for whatever information you can find in the -books, which are yours to keep, you understand. And now don’t you think -Miss Banks may have arrived at the doctor’s by this time?” - -Stephen helped him off in good style, but in such a flutter of -excitement that he could hardly respond to the cheery “good-by,” for in -his hands were two very large, very handsomely bound books, sparkling -with pictures, and with the most inviting-looking reading. They must -certainly be larger than Dick Wheeler’s one, for that had been minutely -described to him. Besides, there were two of these; and besides, oh! -besides, they were his very own, to keep! - -As he turned the leaves, like one in fairyland, he said aloud, “What -if I had got a chance to go to Dick Wheeler’s this morning and missed -this? O, my! what if I had!” - - PANSY. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration: LOOK OUT! WE’RE COMING.] - - - - -BABY’S CORNER. - -WHAT HAPPENED TO BUNNY. - - -BUNNY is the name of a squirrel with a very long tail. - -When nuts were ripe Bunny worked hard to pick them and store them up -for his family to live on through the cold winter. - -His house was in a big hollow tree. The door to it was a little round -hole. He had a nice large pantry. - -All day long, in the pleasant Oc-to-ber weather, when children were -playing, Bunny was picking nuts and scampering down the trees to put -them safe in his pantry. - -He had a good many kinds of nuts. There were butternuts and walnuts and -chestnuts, and tiny beechnuts for the teeny weeny squirrels. At last -Bunny’s pantry was full, and he was all ready for December with its -cold winds and snowflakes. - -One morning something happened! Just as Bunny started out he found -a wire cage in front of his door. He thought it was a pretty little -house, so he walked in. - -Snap! went the door of this pretty little house, and shut itself tight. - -Bunny tried on every side to get out, but he could not. He was in a -prison. - -While he wondered what he should do a big boy came and looked at him. - -“Hurrah!” he said. - -Then big boy took up the cage and carried it off home. - -He gave Bunny to his little sister Susie. - -Susie was kind to Bunny. She put him in a basket with a soft bed and -gave him cake and candy. - -But Bunny was not happy. He was too warm in the house with his fur coat -on, and he wanted to get back to his dear children. He would not play; -he sat still and looked sad. - -“Poor Bunny!” said Susie’s mamma; “he is used to being outdoors, and -frisking about. He wants to see his little children and eat the nuts he -laid up.” - -“Then he shall go,” Susie said. - -[Illustration: “THEN HE SHALL GO.”] - -So she told him good-by, and carried the cage out in the garden and -opened its door. - -Away went Bunny! He scampered over the fence and whisked up a tall tree -as quick as wink. - -How happy he was to get to his hollow tree once more. - -Was not Susie a nice little girl? - - MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON. - - - - -A LONG CHRISTMAS. - - -PART II. - -IT was a January night, very cold. The snow which was always on the -mountains looked down on the snow which sometimes melted from the -valleys, and seemed to smile at it in a hard, cold way, for supposing -itself to be of any importance at all. The white cross made by the -peculiar shape of the mountains, and the action of the sun on the snow, -gleamed in the moonlight more beautiful than usual to Teddy Simpson, -as he pushed back the overcoat several times too large for him, thrust -his hands into his pockets, and leaned against the snow-covered hill -to think. Hundreds of stars twinkled down upon him, brighter and more -filled with jewels than they ever are in any other sky, I think; but -Teddy’s thoughts were not of them. - -He was waiting for the teamster whose route lay along this mountain -side, and who always brought the mail from the distant settlement, as -well as any supplies or packages which the miners might need. Not that -Teddy expected any mail! Bless your heart, he had never received a -letter in his life, nor even a paper through the mails. To have done so -even once would have almost taken his breath away. Yet he was deeply -interested in the teamster’s wagon; as he stood still in the moonlight -to think, there was an eager look in his eyes, and he listened for the -sound of the cracking whip with such an air of expectancy as his face -did not often wear. The fact is, Teddy Simpson had planned a wonderful -surprise for his mother which his friend the teamster was helping him -to carry out. Very poor they were, he and his mother; she cooked for -the miners, and washed for them, and mended their clothes, but the -miners, too, were poor, and could pay but little. The truth is, the -people who lived and worked in this beautiful, desolate region were all -poor together. Teddy had had plans, beautiful plans, for the Christmas -three weeks behind him, and had failed in them. He and his mother -knew all about Christmas; had not she hung up her stocking every year -of her life until she was a great girl fifteen years old? Teddy never -had, because Santa Claus seemed never to get so far West as where he -lived; but while the father was alive Teddy always had at least one -Christmas present, if it was nothing but a picture cut from some of -the illustrated papers of the tourists, and framed by his mother with -some bits of bright paper laid away for such purposes. Teddy had been -a man grown now for two years—at least he felt like one—with no time -for such trifles; but he had longed to make a bright Christmas for the -miner’s family with five little children, their nearest neighbors. If -his mother had not had a sick day when he was obliged to do her work as -well as he could, and in doing it wasted some of the material and lost -a good deal of time, he thought he should have accomplished it. As it -was, he could not get the Christmas treat ready for them, but promised -himself that another year he would be on hand. Then he had turned his -thoughts to a surprise for his mother. That, too, had been a Christmas -plan, but failing then, he resolved that he would not wait for the next -season. The surprise was nothing more nor less than a half-pound of the -best tea which the silver half-dollar he had sent by the teamster could -supply. The poor little overworked mother was very fond of tea; he -had often heard her say that a good cup of it after a hard day’s work -seemed to rest her as nothing else would; but since the father died, -she had bravely put it aside as one of the luxuries which they could -not now afford. - -If there were time to tell you how long and hard Teddy had worked for -that extra half-dollar, never taking a cent for it from the regular -wages of the day which he earned as his share of the family support, -you would not wonder that he had grown almost feverish in his anxiety -as the weeks went on, lest he should fail in having the right amount. -He had accomplished it, and the day had come for the teamster to go -on his fortnightly trip, and the day and evening had arrived for his -return, and here at a bend in the road Teddy waited for him. - -Away in the distance on the still frosty air broke at last the sound of -a cheery whistle, and Teddy held himself still and listened. Jim Coon, -the teamster, was a friend of his, and Teddy did not believe he would -whistle if anything so cruel had happened as that the supply grocer had -been out of tea. - -“Halloo!” said Jim, as he came with a flourish around the bend in the -snowy road, “waitin’, be you? I thought it was a ghost froze stiff -to the rocks. Climb up here, and we’ll be home in a jiffy. Beats all -what a hurry this team has been in this afternoon—all owing to you, I -s’pose. O, yes! I got it, safe and sound; the very best kind of tea -ever brought to these parts, Joe Derrick says, and he put in a good big -half-pound of it, I’m witness to that.” - -Then Teddy drew a long breath, and immediately the longing which he had -kept in the background came to the front; also the problem over which -he had been studying for weeks. Wouldn’t it on the whole have been -better to have gotten a quarter of a pound of tea and spent the rest -of the money in sugar? mother did so like a little sugar with her tea. -But then, a quarter of a pound seemed such a very little bit, and the -winter was long in this mountain region, and there was no telling when -he would have a chance to get any more. But he wished, O, so much! that -he knew how to get just a little sugar; that would make the present -complete. - -“I got somethin’ else,” said Jim, with a curious note of suppressed -excitement in his tones; “somethin’ for you.” - -“For me?” echoed Teddy, amazed. - -“Yes, sir, for you; Teddy Simpson is the name on the box, as large as -life.” - -“On the box!” In his astonishment and excitement all that Teddy could -do was to echo Jim’s words. - -“Yes, sir, on the box; a good-sized box, and as heavy as though it had -been stuffed with lead. Come by freight; got there yesterday just about -an hour before I drove into town; come all the way from New York State, -too.” - -After that, the quarter of a mile between Teddy Simpson and home seemed -endless. A box by freight for him! What would mother think, and the -neighbors! Above all, what could be in the box? - -Before it was half-unpacked the question became what was not in it? Two -suits of clothes for Teddy, two new dresses for his mother—or dresses -quite as good as new—a warm, bright shawl, and a fur hood. Shoes, and -stockings, and socks, and mittens, and oh! books, and papers, and -pictures, and more books. Was ever anything so wonderful? Then there -were toys—dolls, and balls, and tops, and wooden dogs, and wax cats, -and cloth elephants—and some little bits of dresses and sacks which -could fit only the children further down the mountain. Teddy felt this, -even before he discovered that these were all labeled, “For Teddy to -give to his friends, the little Perkinses.” Moreover, there was a -little leather bag in the very bottom of the box, drawn together by a -bright cord and securely tied, which when opened was found to contain -seventeen bright silver dollars, the gifts of the cousins and aunts and -uncles for Teddy to use as he thought best. Do you want to know what he -thought of first? A whole pound of sugar to go with that half-pound of -tea which was still lying snugly in his overcoat pocket, where Teddy -meant to leave it until the next morning. Such a box as that, and a -half pound of tea in the bargain, he considered altogether too much for -his mother’s nerves in one evening. - -Such a wonderful morning as it was—such a wonderful day, indeed! -The Perkinses were hopelessly wild all day, and their poor little -half-discouraged mother was not much better. - -The next time teamster Jim went over the snow road between the -mountains he carried a fat little letter written in Teddy’s best round -hand—and he was by no means a bad writer; his mother had taught him. -In this letter he described to the cousins just how he stood by the -rocks and waited for Jim Coon’s team, just how surprised he was, just -how the box was opened, just what he and his mother exclaimed as long -as they had any breath for exclaiming, just how the Perkinses acted -the next day—at least as well as language would do it—and altogether -wrote so surprising a letter that Hortense said, drawing a long sigh of -delight: “Isn’t it lovely? Hasn’t this been a long Christmas? It is -better than the Christmas-tree a great deal, isn’t it?” - -“It is the jolliest Christmas I ever had,” said Holly. - -“And it has taught us how to have some more jolly ones,” said Tom. - -As for Tom’s father, he said: “That boy Teddy is a smart fellow; he -ought to have an education. There ought to be a good school out there. -Why wouldn’t that be a good place for us to send Richard Winston? He -would be a grand fellow to work among just such people.” - -So the “long Christmas” is in a fair way to grow longer, you see, for -every cousin in the three homes is interested in Tom’s father’s idea, -and so is Richard Winston. - - PANSY. - -[Illustration: “HE STOOD STILL IN THE MOONLIGHT TO THINK.”] - - - - -SOMETHING FOR MAMMA. - - -YOU want it for Christmas, of course; and you are a little girl who has -very few pennies of your own to spend; and mamma, like other mammas, -thinks that something which her daughter has made with her own hands -is of far more value than an article, however fine, bought at a store. -You have been disconsolate for several days because there are so few -“things” which you know how to make, and because you have so little -money with which to buy material. Take heart, my dear, there are happy -surprises in store for mamma. - -How much money have you for this particular gift? “Twenty-five cents,” -and you blush and are troubled, and say in your heart, “Just as though -anything worth having could be made for twenty-five cents!” Why, my -dear, that is enough and to spare. Did you notice the table mats -yesterday at dinner? They are made of bits of oiled wood ingeniously -put together, and in their prime were pretty, and rather expensive; but -they are sadly worn now—so much so, indeed, that Hannah declared only -yesterday that she did not know what to do with the things; they were -so much worn that she could not wash them any more. She knew what she -would like to do with them; if she had her way she would “chuck” them -into the fire. - -What I propose is, that you plan your Christmas present so that Hannah -can have the pleasure of doing just that thing. - -What you want is a ball of macremé cord, of a delicate creamy tint, -price fifteen cents, and a ball of candle wicking for three cents, or -possibly five, though it ought not to be if your merchants are up with -city prices. Positively that is all. O, yes! a crochet needle, large -size; but that of course you have; or if not, I am almost certain that -mamma, or better still grandma, will make you a present of one, because -of the many useful things you can make with it; still, if you wish to -be entirely independent, why, buy one, for five cents surely (a large -price), and you are ready. - -Hold the end of candle wicking over your left forefinger and crochet -the macremé cord over it with what is known as the long stitch; it is -very rapid work after you have once mastered the stitch, and before you -realize it, you will have a long, long rope of creamy cord. Do not pull -hard on the crochet cord, but let the work lie up loose and fluffy. -When you think you have enough done to experiment with, get your neat -little work box, thread a needle with strong cotton—number thirty -being a very good size—curl the beginning of your cord into a graceful -circle, and take firm stitches on the under side to hold it there; then -another coil, and another, sewed neatly and firmly, and continue until -you have a table mat large enough round to take the vegetable dishes, -or the soup tureen, or whatever you wish to set on it. Then cut off -the supply, fasten the end firmly, and finish the whole with a pretty -crocheted scallop all around. Just compare that mat with the slippery, -stained wood one with frayed edges! You admire it now, but what will -it be when Hannah has washed and starched it until it holds its shape -as firmly as the wooden one, and yet is flexible and graceful? More of -them? Certainly, an entire set, varying in size to match the uses to -which they are to be put. - -Have I made a mistake? Are your vegetable dishes all oval? Well, my -dear, your table water pitcher is not, I am sure. Just use this first -one for it, and start your next sewing with an oval shape instead of a -circle; it must be a very small oval for the beginning—not over three -quarters of an inch in length—else your mat will grow too long for its -width. Your best plan would be to experiment a little. Lay the work -loosely, confined by a mere basting stitch, and see whether, when the -mat has grown as long as your paper pattern, it will be of the proper -width. You will not find the planning difficult; it merely needs the -patience and carefulness which I feel sure you will bestow; and the -result will be an entire nest of pretty and useful mats which will be a -delightful surprise to mamma on Christmas morning, and a comfort to her -as well as to Hannah throughout the year. Try it, and be sure to let me -hear how you succeeded. - - PANSY. - -[Illustration: CHRISTMAS EVENING.] - - - - -ETHEL CARLISLE’S FACE. - -(_Character Studies._) - - -I CAN see her now as she looked to me that winter morning wrapped in -furs, ready all but her fur cap to brave the frosty air, when she held -up in triumph a spray of brilliant bloom, and said: “Look, Aunt Myra, -did you ever see anything prettier than that from a conservatory? And -they blossomed in my window-seat!” I was not her auntie, but was so old -and intimate a friend of the family that the children had adopted me. - -“Hasn’t Ethel a beautiful face?” I said to Miss Margaret, another -friend of the family, who, with myself, was a guest at the Carlisles’. -“It is so very bright. Did you notice what a peculiar brightness there -is to her eyes when she smiles? And she has a lovely smile.” - -Miss Margaret looked grave, almost troubled. “It is a sweeter face than -it will be in a few years, I am afraid,” she said, shaking her head, -which already had threads of silver in it. Miss Margaret was a wise -sweet woman, not given to croaking, so I waited somewhat anxiously -to hear her words. “Ethel is cultivating habits which will spoil her -face,” she said; “I have not been here before for two years, and I -notice a very decided change in it since then. She was one of the -sweetest little children I ever knew, but if you watch through only one -day you will discover what I mean. Unless something occurs to change -her habits, there will be another spoiled face in the world in a few -years.” - -I had been in the house but a day, and had been absent from the -country for more than two years, so I knew very little of the younger -Carlisles. Ethel had always been my favorite, and it made me sad and a -trifle annoyed to hear Miss Margaret’s words. I felt sure she must have -grown over particular. - -Of course, with such a warning, it would have been impossible not to -have watched. Long before night I knew what Miss Margaret meant. - -“Where in the world is my French Grammar?” I heard Ethel’s voice, with -a very sharp note in it, rasping through the hall. “I left it on the -dining-room table while I ran out to speak to Nellie, and somebody has -taken it. I declare, I cannot lay down a thing for a second and find it -again. I do wish Ann could be taught to let my books alone!” - -“Indeed, Miss Ethel, I have not touched a book this morning; I have not -dusted in the dining-room yet.” This was Ann’s voice; then Ethel’s, -by no means sweetened: “That is perfect nonsense, Ann; I left it here -not two minutes ago, and now it is gone. What do you think could have -become of it? It couldn’t walk off without hands.” - -“Ethel!” from Mrs. Carlisle, in a reproving tone, “do not speak so to -Ann, daughter; she has not been in the dining-room since breakfast.” - -“Well, but, mother, my French Grammar is gone that I just laid there, -and the bell is ringing; I shall be late, and I think it is just too -bad!” There was an ugly frown all over the fair forehead, and a sharp -and at the same time whining tone to the voice which had been so sweet -but a little while before. - -“Ethel,” called her older sister Nannie from the hall above, “here is -your book; you left it on the hat rack a few minutes ago.” - -Away went Ethel without a word of explanation to mother or to Ann, and -we heard her voice, still sharp, saying to Nannie, “Why couldn’t you -have told me before, and not kept me hunting half the morning?” - -I heard the mother sigh, and was sorry for her, and glad that the -alcove curtains shaded me from view, and that I had a book in my hand -and could appear not to have heard. - -Ethel came home at lunch time, and was out of sorts with the soup -because it tasted of onions, and with the squash because it had been -peppered. She said she wished anybody ever consulted her tastes, and -she would just as soon think of puffing tobacco smoke in the face of -people as of eating onions for them to smell afterwards. She scolded -her brother Tom for forgetting the music he was to call for; and when -he said he was very sorry, and it was because he had so many important -errands for his father that he forgot it, she tossed her head and said -sharply, “Oh! you needn’t explain; of course you would forget what I -wanted; I’m of no consequence.” - -[Illustration: ETHEL HELD UP A SPRAY OF BRILLIANT BLOOM.] - -In short, with my eyes opened as they had been by Miss Margaret I could -not help seeing that Ethel spoiled the sweetness of almost every room -she entered that day, and complained of unkindness or of discomforts at -every turn. Yet at family worship, when she played, - - “Sun of my soul, thou Saviour dear,” - -and led the singing with a very sweet voice, she looked like an angel. -It broke my heart to hear her, not ten minutes afterwards, scolding -Baby Frank for overturning her spool basket. “You are just a little -nuisance!” she said, sharp-voiced again; “I think mamma ought to whip -you. Well, mamma, I do,” in response to a reproving look from her -mother; “you are just spoiling him, I think.” - -“Is it possible that this is a fair specimen of that child’s days?” I -asked Miss Margaret, as we went down the hall together. - -“I am afraid it is,” said Miss Margaret. “She is learning to frown and -fret over the veriest trifles, and to answer even her mother rudely, -as you noticed just now. How many years of such living will it take to -utterly spoil the pretty face? Isn’t it strange that a young girl who -believes herself such an ardent admirer of beauty, should deliberately -undertake to spoil the lovely work of art which God gave her to take -care of?” - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - - - - -ORIGIN OF A NEW ENGLAND INDUSTRY. - - -IN 1798 Betsey Metcalf, of Dedham, Mass., made a bonnet out of oat -straw, fashioning it after an English bonnet then very fashionable. -She flattened the straw with the blade of her scissors, split it -with her thumb nail, braided it into the requisite number of strands -and bleached it by holding it over the vapor of burning sulphur. She -afterward taught the young ladies of her vicinity how to do it, and -thus laid the foundation of the extensive business now carried on in -straw hats in New England.—_Selected._ - - - - -MOTHER DUNLAP’S STORY. - - -IF my father and mother had been at home it would never have happened, -but they started in the morning as soon as they could see the road for -my Aunt Margaret’s, taking Emeline with them. I remember just how I -felt when I saw them drive from our gate with Emeline sitting between -them; it seemed so terrible, somehow, to think of her sitting in my -place, because I was the one who always sat between father and mother. -But Cousin Emeline was Aunt Margaret’s little girl, and word had come -that Aunt Margaret was very sick, and that Emeline must be brought home -as fast as possible; so of course they started, though there was every -sign of a storm, Uncle Peter said, and he hardly ever made a mistake in -the weather. He was our “signal service” in those days. Cousin Edward -was at our house, too; he was Uncle Edward’s son, and always spent his -short vacation with us, because his folks lived too far away for him -to go home. He was thirteen years old, and thought he knew all there -was to know in life. He was a smart fellow, and would have been real -nice if he had not felt so sure of it himself. Father and mother had -not been gone an hour when he began to plan to drive to town to the New -Year festival which was to be held in one of the churches, and take me -along. Kirke said everything in the world to hinder us from going; he -thought it was going to storm. - -“Who’s afraid of a few snowflakes?” said Edward. “I want Nannie to have -a cheery time for New Year’s; it is dreadful dull for her with Auntie -and Uncle both gone.” - -Kirke was a boy who did chores at our house for his board, and went to -school; we lived two miles nearer the schoolhouse than his mother did, -and they were pretty poor, and Kirke earning his board away from home -helped them a good deal. We all loved Kirke; he was a good sensible -boy, and stood at the head of his classes in school. But I did not -approve of him that day; I wanted to go to town. I was a silly little -thing in those days, not afraid of anything; I laughed at the storm -just as Edward did. - -“It will be more than a few flakes,” Kirke said, shaking his head -gravely; “I think we are going to have the worst storm of the season.” -Then Edward began to make fun of him—call him Uncle Peter, and ask what -kind of a winter it was forty years ago; because Uncle Peter was always -going back to old times and telling stories about the weather. Kirke -kept good-natured, and laughed with me over Edward’s speeches, but for -all that he did not stop trying to keep us from going to town. - -“Look here,” he said, “I have a tip-top plan for this afternoon. Mrs. -Baker gave me a jug of molasses and some splendid ears of pop-corn to -take home: suppose you and Nannie walk out home with me, and we will -pop some corn, and make candy with hickory nuts in? We’ve got a bushel -of nuts stored away in the garret, and we’ll have no end of fun. Nannie -can stay all night—she has done it before, you know—and sleep with my -sister Mary, and you and I will turn in with little Billy up in the -attic; he likes company.” - -The picture looked quite inviting to me; I had often been out to -Kirke’s house, for my father and mother liked their family very much, -and were always willing to have me play with their children. - -But Edward was not to be persuaded. “No, you don’t, old fellow,” he -said; “candy and nuts are first-rate things for any night in the year -but New Year’s; a fellow needs something extra then. I’ve set my heart -on seeing the festival tables, and watching them give out the prizes, -and I’m going; my uncle said three days ago that I could.” - -“But he did not know that it was going to snow,” Kirke said, more and -more anxious. “Really, Edward, I do not think Mr. and Mrs. Baker would -like to have you take Nannie out when it looks so much like a storm.” -Then Edward got angry and told Kirke to mind his own business, that -we were not left in his charge at least, and that he should do as he -liked; and Kirke was to remember that Mr. and Mrs. Baker were his own -uncle and aunt, and that he might be supposed to know as much about -what they would like as a stranger could. Kirke said no more, but he -looked very much troubled. I was half-disposed to give up the plan, -but Edward laughed at me. The good-natured housekeeper in whose care -we were left never paid much attention to the weather, and made no -objection to my going. I don’t know but that it would have come out all -right even then, if Edward’s pride had not got the upper hand. He took -a notion to drive to town by the old road. - -“O, don’t!” I urged; “you do not know that way at all, and Uncle Peter -said this morning that the wind last night must have drifted the snow -on the old road.” - -“Poh!” said Edward, “Uncle Peter is an old croaker; he’s an old man, -Nannie, and always makes mountains out of molehills. The wind will be -at our backs part of the time on the old road, and I’m going that way. -What if I have not driven it? The horse won’t get lost, if you think I -will.” - -Well, we started, and for the first ten minutes everything was right; -then we began to come to drifts, and I was dreadfully scared. We almost -turned over two or three times. I kept squealing out, and that provoked -Edward. “Keep still,” he would say; “I did not know you were such a -little coward.” To make matters worse, it began to snow harder than I -ever saw it before, and grew so dark that we could hardly see our way. -We had been riding a good while, and ought to have reached the town, -but no sign of a town was to be seen. - -After a while Edward made up his mind that he must have taken the -wrong turn, and said he was going back a little way to see if he had. -He tried to turn around, but the wind blew so that the snow blinded -his eyes; and it was not a good place for turning around, any way. The -first thing I knew over went the sleigh, and I was in a snowdrift! -That was not the worst of it, either; the runner of the sleigh snapped -as if it had been a pipe-stem. Good old Jim stood still, fortunately. -But there we were with a driving storm, with a broken sleigh! I do -not think I was ever so glad of anything in my life as I was to hear -Kirke’s voice above the roar of the wind. - -“What in the world are you doing there?” he said, bounding along over -drifts of snow. “Is Nannie hurt? If she is not all right never mind -anything else. Oh! the sleigh is broken. How came you to be on this -road? This is not the way to town; it is an old wood road that was used -early in the winter, but it is all snowed up; you could not have got -much farther; you ought to have turned to the right a mile below here; -I thought you knew the way. Now I’ll tell you what will have to be -done. Nannie must go to our house—it is less than a quarter of a mile -from here—and I’ll get a rope and tie up that sleigh somehow, enough to -get it and Jim back to the stable; then I’ll tell your folks that you -are going to stay at our house all night—shall I?” - -[Illustration: “THERE WE WERE, WITH A BROKEN SLEIGH!”] - -He seemed to have forgotten how disagreeably Edward had spoken to him, -and was just as nice as could be. But Edward’s cheeks were pretty red. -“No, sir,” he said firmly; “I started out to have my own way and ought -to have the benefit of it. If you will take Nannie to your house I’ll -get this rig home myself and take care of Jim; it is not fair that you -should lose your New Year’s fun to help me out. I’ll foot it out to -your house if it is not too late after I have been to see Mr. Ormstead -about mending this sleigh; but I’m not going to let you go for me a -single step.” - -No amount of coaxing could turn him from his purpose. So at last Kirke, -after helping him to tie up the runner with some twine which they found -in their pockets, tucked me under his arm, and we marched off to their -little house. - -Their kitchen was the cleanest, brightest, cheeriest place you ever -saw, and the molasses taffy was splendid. I had a lovely time; but -there was such a dreadful storm that Edward could not get back that -night, and Jim had lamed himself somehow in stumbling through deep -drifts; and it cost four dollars to mend the sleigh, which Edward had -to pay, because my father said he did not believe in boys having their -own way and not being willing to take the consequences. To be sure he -gave the money back again, and more too, when Edward’s next birthday -came. But I don’t think Edward ever forgot the lesson. I ought to have -been punished too, for I pretended to agree with Edward, even when I -thought he was foolish; but some way I slipped through the trouble and -had all the pleasure, just as girls often do, I think. - -[Illustration: THEY STARTED FOR AUNT MARGARET’S. (“_Mother Dunlap’s -Story._”)] - -“Mother,” said little Cathie Dunlap, “father’s middle name is Kirke; -did he have anything to do with the nice boy who took care of you?” - -“Why, yes,” said Mother Dunlap, laughing, “come to think of it, his -full name was William Kirke Dunlap.” - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - - - - -HUNGER AND THIRST. - - -THERE is a story of a little boy who was very fond of angling, and who -one day told his grandfather that he had caught a fish as large as a -horse. - -“Look here, Tom,” said the old man, “don’t you know it’s wrong for a -little boy like you to tell such a big untruth? You are not six years, -are you?” - -“No,” said Tommy; “I am only five, and I’ll not do it again. After this -I’m going to tell only little bits of fish stories.” - -That boy often reminds one of people who talk about being “temperate” -and “moderate” in the use of things which they ought to let alone -altogether. A little glass of strong drink, a little cigar, are just as -certainly wrong as a little untruth. - -But how can we know what is good or bad for the body? The answer is, -that our body itself will tell us. The body has a conscience as well as -the soul. Put your hand into a potful of warm water, and your hand will -at once let you know if the water is too hot. Go out sleigh-riding in a -light straw hat on a cold winter morning, and your ears will soon ask -for a warmer cover. After a laborer has been hard at work for eight or -ten hours, his body will ask for rest. Make a child sit down in a chair -without moving for six hours, and its body will ask for exercise. Our -body soon lets us know if a coat or a shoe is too tight, or if a burden -is too heavy. And it can just as certainly be relied upon to warn us -against unwholesome food. It is true that we can silence that voice of -our body’s conscience. After a man has swallowed a good many glasses -of bad drink or smoked a cigar every morning for a couple of weeks, he -at last gets “used to it,” as we call it; his nature gets changed, and -at last he is unable to let such things alone. But at the first trial -our sense of taste will plainly warn us against unwholesome food and -drink. Before an apple is ripe it tastes sour. The taste of over-ripe -or spoiled fruit gets more and more disagreeable. - -An Italian naturalist, during his travels in Southern Africa, noticed -that a little pet monkey of his never made a mistake in choosing -its food, and could tell poisonous herbs and berries from good ones -the moment he tasted them. The traveler made that little creature -his kitchen master, as he called it, and always let it try a bit of -every kind of food that was offered to him for sale. “If Jocko ate a -spoonful of honey and stretched out his hand for more,” he writes, “I -was satisfied that it was worth buying; if the little chap grinned and -flung the sample away, I felt sure that the bees must have gathered -their honey from poisonous flowers. Jocko never made mistakes in such -things, and that our own people blundered so often might be explained -by the fact that we have blunted our sense of taste with strong drink -and hot spices.” - -A boy who has been brought up on perfectly wholesome food can tell -injurious things almost as quick as that little monkey. He will dislike -the taste of sharp pepper sauces, of pickles, of strong cheese, of -spoiled meat, and will not be apt to mistake a bitter swamp berry for a -huckleberry. - -Our stomach also lets us know when we should stop eating. In that case, -too, it is not safe to disregard the warnings of our bodily conscience. -If a boy keeps eating, just to while time away, after he feels that he -has had enough, and after his stomach has asked him again and again to -stop, his nature at last changes, and he wants to be stuffing himself -all the time. I knew a little chap of ten years who seemed to think -it a pity to lose a chance for gorging himself, and who had to be -watched like a tricky cat to keep him from slipping into his mother’s -pantry and helping himself to all the good things in sight. On his -way to school he would stop to buy a package of peanuts or pick up a -pocketful of apples on the outside of an orchard, and when he came home -for dinner he ate away as if nothing had happened. All his schoolmates -called him “Glutton Joe.” - -Such gluttons are apt to think that they are getting more fun out of -life than other people. The truth is, that they hardly ever know an -hour of real happiness. They feel dull and weary; they become too -sluggish to play; they take no interest in their studies, and drop a -new book or new paper after a short look at the pictures; they would -rather not know the end of a pretty story than go to the trouble of -reading it through. They feel drowsy as soon as the weather gets a -little warm, but when they go to sleep their rest is broken by ugly -dreams. Glutton Joe had no friends; he was so cross and lazy that -nobody wanted him for a playmate. - -An old fisherman once told me that it was worth while going out sailing -in bad, chilly weather, just for the fun of getting home again and -taking a rest in a warm chimney-corner, and I have often thought that -many people would find it worth while to fast once in a while, when -they begin to complain that they cannot enjoy their meals. After a -day’s exercise in the woods and mountains the plainest food tastes -well. A supper of bread, milk and huckleberries tastes better to the -poor Tennessee mountain boy, who has been out herding cows all day, -than a banquet of thirty dishes tastes to a rich merchant who has -not yet digested his last meal. There is no danger in an occasional -fast, though some people seem to think it a misfortune to miss one of -their three daily meals. There was a time when rich and poor thought -it enough to eat one good meal a day. The old Romans and Greeks ate a -biscuit and perhaps half a handful of dried fruit in the morning, and -then did not eat again till they had finished their day’s work, when -they took a bath, changed their dress, and then sat down to a good -supper. An Indian hunter thinks nothing of going a day without any food -at all. A few years ago an American physician thought it worth while to -try how long a man could fast without hurting himself. People thought -he was crazy, and told him he would kill himself in less than a week. -He made no reply, and his friends changed their opinion when he had -fasted forty days and nights. Few of those friends would have cared to -try their own pluck in that manner, but they would certainly have been -ashamed to complain of an accident that might lose them a dinner and -oblige them to eat their principal meal in the evening. - -But though there can be no harm in a day’s fast, it is never safe to -suffer for want of drinking water. The same doctor who passed nearly -six weeks without a mouthful of food, took a sip of cold lemonade every -few hours, and it is a curious fact that in warm weather a glass of -water served with our dinner is by far the most important part of the -meal. Hunger, or what we call a “good appetite,” often stops after -the mealtime has passed without a chance of getting a mouthful of -food, but thirst cannot be put off in that way, and becomes at last so -intolerable that a starved traveler, after a three days’ journey in the -desert, would give a wagon-load of food for a drink of cold water. - - FELIX L. OSWALD, M. D. - - - - -WOULD AND SHOULD. - - -A PUPIL in a quiet boarding-school in —— displayed some time since no -small degree of industry in collecting autographs of distinguished -persons. The late James Russell Lowell was one of the number addressed. -The address to him was in substance: “I would be very much obliged for -your autograph.” The response contained a lesson that many besides the -ambitious pupil have not learned: “Pray do not say hereafter ‘I would -be obliged.’ If you would be obliged, be obliged and be done with -it. Say ‘I should be obliged,’ and oblige yours truly, JAMES RUSSELL -LOWELL.”—_Selected._ - - - - -WESTMINSTER ABBEY. - - -YOU see it is most beautiful to the eye, though you Pansies of the -great cities may think some of your churches quite as handsome. But -none of them has such a history. This church was founded—started, as -some would say—more than a thousand years ago! Now where’s your pretty -“meeting-house” which was built only last year? - -Old King Siebert, a Saxon, built Westminster Abbey, and many of the -Saxons really believed that the Apostle Peter dedicated it, though -Peter had died nearly one thousand years before! - -[Illustration: A VIEW OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY.] - -However, this building is not the very same that King Siebert put up. -That one stood several hundred years, when Edward, “the Confessor,” as -he was called, rebuilt it. Two hundred years later King Henry the Third -enlarged it, making it look about as it now is. - -For years and years the English kings and queens have been crowned -here, and buried, too, nearly all. Here the great ones of the nation -are buried—Shakespeare, Milton, Ben Jonson, Wordsworth, and many more, -the poets in the “Poets’ Corner.” - -Under the coronation (crowning) chair is the “Stone of Scone,” which -some actually say is the very one Jacob laid his head upon when he -dreamed! However that be, many kings have sat upon it when they were -crowned. - -Of course you will search out the “Jerusalem Chamber” when you visit -Westminster. The Presbyterian Church began in this chamber. Here, too, -the Bible was revised (re-translated from the Hebrew and Greek). - -“Why do they call it the ‘Jerusalem Chamber’?” - -Probably because its windows came from that old city, and the Cedar of -Lebanon forms the wainscoting. - -So this wonderful building has served many purposes besides that of a -church. For some hundred years the House of Commons (something like -our House of Representatives) made laws here, especially laws to secure -the liberties of the people. - -So you see this building is something like Faneuil Hall of Boston and -Independence Hall of Philadelphia. - -What a book Westminster Abbey could make if it only could write. But -somehow, like Nineveh and such places, it will rise up in the Judgment; -then what will it say of the people who have had to do with it? - - L. - - - - -A NEW YEAR’S TRIP. - - -TO Africa! Yes; here it is ’92, January 1, early in the morning, and we -are in the sleigh, and away we glide over the snow to Africa, to return -to-night. - -“Twenty thousand miles in twelve hours, pooh! and going to hot Africa -in a sleigh!” - -Suppose, then, we just think we are there, and we are there to all -intents and purposes. - -“Well, here goes; I think I’m in South Africa at the mouth of some -diamond hole (tunnel), January 1, ’92. Of course I’m there picking up -diamonds to bring back for New Year’s presents, eh?” - -Indeed you—the best part of you, your soul, your thought—are. Just wake -up your imagination, and it’s about the same. Now you step down into -the dark hole. Deeper you descend, as down a steep hill, to the very -bottom—eight hundred feet or more—through fields full of diamonds. - -See, just before you dim forms. They are naked natives digging. They -fill up the small car of dirt, dotted with the precious stones, and -away it goes up and out. It dumps its load and returns. It’s a dirty, -dreadful place. Every little while there’s a roar; the ground shakes. -There’s dynamite blasting to loosen the earth. - -Hurry out now; the tunnel may cave in, and you’ll be choked, as were -several hundred a few years ago. - -Here we are outside. See, the ground is two feet deep with the earth -carted out. They are harrowing it, or the rain is falling upon it. It -is crumbling fine. Ah! see the shining treasures. But look out! Don’t -put one into your pocket without permission; you are watched. - -Now back we come—in thought. There! have not we had one of the -brightest New Year’s? - -Thus brighten up your imagination and you need not be bothering -yourself forever with cars and steamboats and ships and seasickness -and such things to see foreign lands. With a good book of travels or -newspaper you can just trip over there—to Europe, Asia and Africa—in a -moment, and see all you can carry back in a few more moments, and be -home to tea the same day to show (tell) your treasures! - - L. - - - - -ON A VISIT TO GERMANY. - - -HERE we are. It is midwinter— - -“In Maine or New Hampshire or Canada, I guess.” - -Guess again, you mistaken Pansy. - -“Norway, then.” - -Nor Norway, but just simply in Germany. - -“Such snow-storms in Germany?” - -Yes, and that miss with umbrella and fat face trudging on is— - -“Fräulein, I dare say. Isn’t that, or something like it, the name of -all the German girls?” - -Wouldn’t that mix things in a family of six girls? Think of a mother -calling each one Fräulein! - -But that girl is no other than Bessie— - -“Bessie a German girl? Never heard one called that in all my life.” - -Who said she was a German girl? Can’t one be in Germany and not be a -German? Do you expect to turn into one as soon as you get to—“Sweet -Bingen on the Rhine,” or Frankfort? Frankfort, once the home of the -great poet, Goethe, some of whose sayings it may make your dear head -ache to understand. Frankfort, once a free city, as free from any king -or great ruler as—the United States is of Mexico; a queer, bright old -city— - -“Bessie! Bessie! what about Bessie? Won’t she be lost in Frankfort? Who -is she, any how?” - -A Pansy, quite likely from Boston, by that name, on a visit to Germany. -She will spend a few months in Frankfort, studying German and seeing -the German sights, among them Luther’s house. - -“But you do not explain what Bessie is doing out in a Frankfort -snow-storm.” - -Maybe she is after red cheeks; she left Boston looking pale enough. -Her mamma thought a sea voyage and a few months in France and as many -more in Germany would color her face again with rose tints as formerly. -You see how she has improved. Now the Christmas festival of Frankfort -begins, lasting three days. There will be trees and trees, and so much -more that paper can hardly hold it or ink write it. - -Bessie is on her way to the festival to see the German of it with -Yankee eyes. - - L. - - -[Illustration: SIR WALTER SCOTT AND HIS BULL-TERRIER, “CAMP.” - -(_From the painting by Raeburn._)] - - - - -A DELIGHTFUL WRITER. - - -[Illustration: STATUE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT, IN EDINBURGH.] - -WHEN you go to Edinburgh, Scotland—as some day go you may—you must not -fail to visit one of the finest structures there, the monument of Sir -Walter Scott. - -Before you go it would be well to read some of his charming books: -Ivanhoe, Old Mortality, Tales of a Grandfather, etc. - -The Scottish folks are justly proud of Sir Walter. Few nations have -produced so delightful a writer. So no wonder this grand monument was -built. It is a Gothic edifice, the top of the spire of which is two -hundred feet from the ground. The lower part is open, and here is a -fine marble statue of Sir Walter, his favorite dog by his side. - -Seventy-five thousand dollars have been put into this edifice! Many of -you would be satisfied with a house costing one thousand. Young Walter -Scott did not expect to become so great a man when he first took up his -pen. - - L. - -[Illustration: OUT IN A SNOW-STORM.] - - - - -A HERO. - - -AT Fort Smith, Ark., is Mrs. Edith M. Degen. She knows a great deal -about Mr. “In.” If you will write her a letter saying you want to know -something more about him, and if you will put in your letter a postal -card addressed to yourself, it will soon get back to you with writing -on the other side which you will like to read. Try it. - -Now this man is really Mr. Lewis F. Hadley of Massachusetts. He has -been many years among the Indians, studying their Sign Language. - -You see the different tribes of Indians have different mouth or spoken -languages, as do white people. To understand each other’s speech they -must have an interpreter to give its meaning; but they all seem to have -about the same sign speech; by using this the different tribes can -understand each other when they meet. - -[Illustration: MR. LEWIS F. HADLEY.] - -You know the deaf and dumb talk with their hands. So with the Indians -of different tribes when they can’t understand each other’s speech. - -Here is a specimen of the sign language: - -[Illustration: Country west I sit writing. - -Morning come I give it firewagon; - -go fast; pretty soon you catch it. - -Day you catch it you show it - -man, woman, all Maybe so give it - -money print book many. Printing - -done, I show it Indian The same - -see it, know it good. Done. - -Lightning Afraid Not.] - -Well, Mr. Hadley has been mastering these signs, and now, after many -years’ hard study, you see he can write it. - -“What for?” - -To spread knowledge among the Indians. To give them the Gospel—the -blessed good news about the Lord who came and died for them. - -“But has not the Bible been put into Indian for them to read, and don’t -the missionaries preach to them in their own language?” - -Yes, indeed; but don’t you see that for each one of the many tribes it -may be necessary to have just the Bible and missionary that each can -understand? But if all the tribes now know this one Sign Talk, then all -can read the Lord’s Prayer, and any other part of the Bible, if put in -this sign talk. And all the more so because every one can understand a -thing better if he can see the language as well as hear it. - -Now to do this good work Mr. H—— lived among the Indians. He is a -missionary unlike any other. He has suffered much living as the Indians -do to learn this language. Read what Mrs. Degen says: “Would you like -to go out to dine where all the family kneel on an earth floor around -the tin dish-pan in which the dinner has been cooked, and grab for ‘a -little white meat,’ or ‘a little dark meat,’ or a ‘little of both, if -you please’? Would you like to see your fellow diners throw the bones -they have picked back into the pan? Or would you like to have your food -brought to you in a wash-basin?” - -Now you can see something of what Mr. Hadley bears. He is a hero. You -can help him. So write to Mrs. Degen. - - L. - - - - -HIS GIFT. - - -A LITTLE boy in Russia lay dying. But a few months before he had heard -of Jesus and his love, and given his heart to that wonderful friend. -His greatest desire in life was to have other Russian children get -acquainted with Jesus. He meant when he grew up to be a missionary -among his people; but God wanted him in heaven. Just before he died he -called his father, and told him how much he wanted to have the Bible -sent to people who were not acquainted with Jesus. Said he: “I haven’t -much money, you know, father, but if you would take what is in my box -and send it to the house where they print Bibles, I think there might -be enough to dot the I’s in the name of Christ. I feel sure there must -be enough to do that in one Bible, and I would like it so much! Will -you, father?” - -You do not need to be told that the father carried out his boy’s last -directions, and the little purse of money is helping to-day to “dot the -I’s” in that blessed name. - -Surely that little fellow ought to have had engraved upon his -headstone, “He hath done what he could.” - - - - -WORK ENOUGH. - - -SOME years ago— - -“Some years ago!” Why, it was as long ago as five times the age of your -grandpapa—he was eighty, I think—a brave man and a few sailors got into -a small ship on the coast of Spain, spread its sails, and away westward -they sped, over the ocean wide and rough with waves. They found America -at last. Others came. Villages grew up. Still they came. - -About this time, three thousand miles away, walked two— - -“Lovers, I guess.” - -Indeed they did love each other, if that is what you mean. See them in -the picture of the “Two Missionaries;” were there ever sweeter faces, -purer and more pitiful? It is because the love of God is shed abroad in -their hearts. Dress and feathers don’t make beauty so much as a right -heart, you must know. - -These two hearts were walking near the dear old church, and as they -walked they thought of the sermon the day before about bearing the -tidings—the Gospel—to the needy. They had heard of America, and their -hearts bled for the people here. - -“And did they go to a seminary, and learn how to teach and preach, -and get ordained, and get married, and come over here and have a -Sunday-school and church?” - -They left all to follow Jesus—fathers, mothers, everybody, everything, -“for Jesus’ sake,” for wild America. - -“And how did most of the people in America look when they got here?” - -How does this creature on the following page look? or that one? - -“Now you don’t mean that the Americans then were such objects?” - -The very same. And our two sweet, beautiful missionaries came to them -and learned their language and lived among them, and taught them of the -true God, and Jesus Christ, the Saviour. - -“Did they stay more than a year that way?” - -They lived and died among them. Then their children took up the work, -and they have been carrying it on ever since! - -“And what came of it all?” - -[Illustration: ONE OF THE FIERCE SAVAGES.] - -Why, many of those fierce savages put off their war paint and wild -ways, and settled down in good homes like nice Christian people, -with churches and Sunday-schools and ministers of their own. Some -of them now look almost as sweet as the two sweet faces of the Two -Missionaries. That’s the way it often works when God puts his grace -into a rough heart. It really changes the face too into beauty. God can -make everything beautiful. - -“But what about the picture on the next page?” - -You mean that queer-looking man going ahead with a child in his arms -and a big boy by his side? - -“It is a family on a journey somewhere.” - -The “somewhere” is America. They are peasants (the poor working folks) -of—Denmark, maybe. - -They have heard of America—what a goodly land it is for the poor and -homeless, and where they can be free to worship God—so they have sold -the cow and poultry and a few other things, and putting into bundles -what they have over, and saying a sad good-by to the dear old hut where -they have always lived, they are on their march to the sea. They will -soon be aboard the ship, Safety; then, after two months— - -“Two months! why, the Teutonic of the White Star Line has just crossed -the Atlantic in five days, sixteen hours and a few seconds.” - -Yes, but this was long ago. - -But the two months are gone; they have landed at Castle Garden, New -York, and now those nine have become ninety thousand. You see, no -sooner had they got nicely settled upon a little spot of land, and in a -neat cottage, and two or three cows about them, and a patch of potatoes -growing near by, when away went a letter back to Denmark to their -cousins to pack up and come too. - -Well, ever since the ships have grown larger and faster, bringing loads -and loads of peasants, five hundred thousand some years, from almost -every nation on the other side of the ocean. - -[Illustration: ANOTHER TYPE OF SAVAGES.] - -“And those two sweet-faced missionaries, did they teach all these low -people the good ways of God?” - -[Illustration: DO YOU THINK THEY LIVE IN A PALACE? (_See “Work -Enough.”_)] - -Yes; they and their children. Don’t you see, they stand for all good -missionaries whom Jesus sends? They are all beautiful in his eyes. -Where in the Bible does it say something like “How beautiful upon -the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings; that -publisheth peace, etc?” If beautiful feet, beautiful everything—so -beautiful that all among whom they go with these tidings become -beautiful too! - -[Illustration: GOING ON A JOURNEY.] - -See those children in the opening picture, coming down the road with -bundles under their arms? Look them over, and say if you think they -live in a palace, and if they wear silks or furs. - -No, no, poor things! a sorry dinner they’ve had. A bed of straw for -them to-night. But in a few years some cousins in America will send -them some money; then they will be here, and somehow they must be made -beautiful as those two sweet-faced ones. Oh! so much work in this land -for Jesus, to meet these heathen at Castle Garden with the good news -and make them beautiful. Oh! for more home missionaries. What say you? - - L. - - - - -DOLLIES TO THE FRONT. - - -I CAME across an old paper which told a pretty story that ought not to -grow old. It was about a “doll’s reception” which a certain Mission -Band gave. The dollies were lent by the members and their friends, and -the friends of their friends, until there was a great army of them. -Then they were arrayed in choice robes and grouped with artistic skill. -On the piano, under a lovely marriage bell of sweet-smelling flowers, -were two bridal groups, dressed in satin and old lace regardless of -expense. The friends of the bride and groom were numerous. Some of them -were old, appearing in costumes of sixty years before; some were in -Mother Hubbard dress, and one very large rag doll, with lips made of -beet juice and eyes of black beads, came to the wedding in the little -wooden cradle which had belonged to her mother’s grandmother. - -There was an “old ladies’” group arranged on a round table, two of -them dressed in Quaker attire, the others in the sweet old fashion of -our great-grandmothers. Then there was a babies’ group, and a group of -children fresh from the schoolroom; there was a German table, a French -table, and I do not know what all. - -One hundred and thirty dolls were lent for the occasion. The -description of each group was printed in rhyme made by the friends of -the Band, and from time to time, as a crowd gathered near any of the -tables, one member stepped forward and recited the descriptive poem. -Ten cents admission was charged, and the hall was thronged on two -afternoons. There was not a cent of expense in the entire affair, and -there was nothing to sell. Over forty dollars were taken in at the -door, and the Mission Band went home happy in the thought that they and -their dollies had enriched a certain school in Japan by that amount. - - - - -WHAT HAVE I DONE? - - - I LAY my finger on time’s wrist to score - The forward-surging moments as they roll; - Each pulse seems quicker than the one before; - And lo! my days pile up against my soul - As clouds pile up against the golden sun. - Alas! what have I done? What have I done? - - I never steep the rosy hours in sleep, - Or hide my soul, as in a gloomy crypt; - No idle hands into my bosom creep; - And yet, as water-drops from house-eaves drip, - So, viewless, melt my days, and from me run; - Alas! what have I done? What have I done? - - I have not missed the fragrance of the flowers, - Or scorned the music of the flowing rills, - Whose numerous liquid tongues sing to the hours; - Yet rise my days behind me, like the hills - Unstayed by light of mighty triumphs won; - Alas! what have I done? What have I done? - - Be still, my soul, restrain thy lips from woe! - Cease thy lament! for life is but the flower, - The fruit comes after death; how can’st thou know - The roundness of its form, its depth of power? - Death is life’s morning. When thy work’s begun, - Then ask thyself—what yet is to be done? - LILLIAN BLANCHE FEARING, - _In Home Mission Monthly._ - - - - -WHEN ST. CHRYSOSTOM PRAYED. - - - ’TWAS not enough to kneel in prayer, - And pur his very soul away - In fervid wrestlings, night and day, - For those who owned his shepherd care; - But faith and works went hand in hand, - As test of each petition made, - And saints were helped throughout the land - When St. Chrysostom prayed. - - Within the closet where he knelt - A box of Bethlehem’s olive wood— - “For Christ” engraved upon it—stood; - And ever as he daily felt - The pressure of the church’s need, - Therein the daily gift was laid; - For word had instant proof of deed - When St. Chrysostom prayed. - - Beneath his folded hands he placed - Whatever gold was his; and when - He travailed for the souls of men, - So long by pagan rites debased, - The more he agonized, the more - The burden on his spirit weighed; - And piece by piece went all his store - When St. Chrysostom prayed. - - O, golden mother! let this thine alms - Rouse us to shame who daily bow - Within our sacred places now, - With outstretched yet with empty palms! - We supplicate indeed; but has - Our faith brought answering works to aid? - Have words by deeds been proven, as - When St. Chrysostom prayed? - MARGARET J. PRESTON, - _in Missionary World._ - - - - -PUT TO SHAME. - - -THEY were sitting in the window-seat, Magdalene and Mabel, busy with -their work, and talking. “The Mission Band meets this week, you know,” -said Mabel. - -“I know it,” Magdalene said, with a scowl on her face; “I’ve got to go, -I suppose, but I don’t want to a bit; I haven’t any money to spare to -give; I’m not going to give but a cent, anyhow, I just can’t afford it. -Isn’t this blue silk sash lovely, Mabel? It just fits my dollie’s eyes. -It was horridly expensive; I had to give twenty cents just for this -little piece.” - -“Nell is going to Mission Band,” said that small woman from the carpet, -where she played with her dollie. “Nell knows all about it; mamma told -her. Nell doesn’t want to be a selfish little girl and not give to the -heathens; Nell is going to give her bestest thing.” - -Magdalene nudged her friend’s elbow to call attention to what her -darling little sister was saying, and the two listened. - -“What are you going to give, Pet?” asked Magdalene at last, as the baby -voice ceased its talking. - -The little girl looked up with surprised eyes; she had not supposed -anybody was paying attention to her. - -“What are you going to give to the Mission Band for the heathens?” - -“I’m going to give my bestest thing,” said the baby, with sweet -gravity; “I shall give my wubber dollie, that I love.” - -Mabel laughed, but Magdalene looked sober. Nobody understood better -than she how the “wubber dollie” was loved, and she knew that Baby Nell -meant what she said. - -“I think I will give my twenty-five cents, after all,” she said, after -a moment’s silence, “and let my doll go without a fur cape; there is a -lovely fur cape for sale at the doll store for twenty-five cents, and I -meant to have it; but I believe I won’t.” - -“You want to match Nell’s ‘wubber dollie,’” said Mabel, with a -good-natured laugh; “but I don’t believe you can.” - - * * * * * - -SOME summer day you may be in Saratoga, N. Y. Among other sights you -may see Indian encampments. Thither they come to sell their curious -manufactures—bows, arrows, bead bags and many other queer things. - -The squaws (women) will be among them, dressed as Indian women have -always dressed, but hardly so well as “Teweelema.” - -[Illustration: TEWEELEMA.] - -If you wish to see her you can now find her on her goodly farm near -Lakeville, Mass., or traveling among the neighboring villages selling -her wares—moccasins, necklaces of shells and beads, etc. She can chop a -tree down or spade up the ground, and do almost any man’s work. She and -her sister manage the farm. Her name is Wootonekanuske. - -At Oneida, N. Y., you may always see a few Indian women on the cars or -at the station, looking something like Teweelema. - -But in a few more years there may not be any Indians left east of the -Mississippi River. The Gospel is now among them, and maybe you will -never again read of so fierce a warrior as Sitting-Bull or King Philip, -Teweelema’s great, great, greatest grandfather. - - L. - -[Illustration: EVERYTHING IS GAY AND HAPPY.] - - - - -CARL HAMMOND’S LESSON. - - -FOR a boy who was usually happy, Carl Hammond certainly spent a very -uncomfortable winter. It is true it was his first away from home, and -some people thought he was young to be sent from home, but that was not -the trouble. He was with Aunt Mary, which was almost the same as being -with mother; and the schools where Aunt Mary lived were so much better -than at Carl’s own home, that his mother had made the sacrifice, and -sent him away. - -His unhappiness had to do with a certain September day which was as -bright and beautiful as a sunny day in early autumn can be. Carl -remembered every little thing about that afternoon—just how his -father’s desk looked, and what books were piled on the table at its -left, and above all, just how Bunce looked when he bounded in at the -window. He was writing to Aunt Mary then, he remembered, telling her on -what train to expect him, and he had held the pen in hand and turned to -laugh at Bunce because he was so ridiculously glad over having found -him. He had leaned over and patted the dog’s eager head, and had asked -him how he was going to manage to get along without his playmate all -winter; and Bunce had begun to run around his chair in that absurd -fashion he had when especially pleased, and had bumped against the -table just as Carl had shouted to him to “take care!” The shout came -too late. Bunce succeeded in jostling the table, so that a ponderous -book set too near the edge tumbled off, taking the great cut-glass -inkstand with it, and the contents of that dreadful inkstand spread -itself not only over the costly book, but the handsome carpet as well. -If it had happened but the day before, Carl could not have remembered -every little particular more vividly. - -Especially what followed; there is no denying that Carl was very much -frightened. It seems a strange thing to say, but the truth is, he was -not very well acquainted with his father. Mr. Hammond was connected -with a business firm which sent him every year, and sometimes two or -three times a year, to Europe; and between times he had to go South -and West, and Carl hardly knew where else, on business; so that he -was not often at home for many days together, and when there, was so -crowded with business as to have little leisure for his family. Carl -had once complained that whenever his father was at home for an hour or -two it was always after he had gone to bed. Perhaps on this account he -was the more frightened; for his father had great respect for books, -and was particularly careful of the large one that Bunce had ruined. -Carl could seem to hear his quick firm voice giving directions: - -“Remember, my son, you are on no account to allow Bunce in the study; -he is a dangerous fellow in such a place; he can hardly move without -doing injury. Be careful always to close the sash window when you go -there, lest he might follow you.” And Carl had been in the study on the -day in question for a half hour, with the sash window wide open. Not -that he had forgotten, but he believed Bunce to be a mile away taking a -walk with his young mistress; and he said to himself: “It is very much -pleasanter with the window open, and of course papa does not care when -Bunce is away.” As if Bunce could not return at any moment! which he -presently did. Even then Carl might have ordered him instantly out and -closed the sash, but the dear fellow was so absurdly glad to see him, -and ran around in such a funny fashion to show his joy that it seemed -too bad to dismiss him at once. Therefore the result which I have given -you. - -But this was not the end of the story. Carl arose in great alarm, and -without even attempting to repair damages, which indeed would have been -beyond his skill, made all haste from the room, taking Bunce with him -and closing the sash window carefully. Then, an hour afterwards, when -his father’s stern voice questioned: “Carl, do you know anything about -the accident in the study?” What did Carl do but ask: “What accident, -sir?” - -“The overturning and breaking of the large inkstand and the spoiling of -a very valuable book. Did you have anything to do with it?” - -“No, sir,” said Carl; “I had not.” - -The poor fellow told his conscience that he really did not have a -thing to do with it, that the dog did all the mischief while he sat -perfectly still, and that his father was the one who had left the book -open on the table so dangerously near the edge. But his conscience had -been better taught than that, and would have nothing to do with such -flimsiness. It told him plainly before he slept that night, that the -name of such talk, in plain English, was lying! - -Nobody questioned Carl further; his friends were in the habit of -believing his word, and his father had been almost immediately -called away by a telegram, so that indeed there had been no time to -investigate. Two days afterwards, Carl himself left home. Now you know -why his winter had been uncomfortable. The simple truth was, that -he was an honorable, truth-loving boy, who had been astonished and -dismayed at himself for telling what was not true, and who could not -help despising himself for it. Moreover, he knew that if there was -one sin more than another which his father hated with all his earnest -nature, it was the sin of lying. - -It may be surprising to think that a boy like Carl should be half the -winter making up his mind to tell the exact truth; nevertheless such -was the case. The longer he put it off, the more impossible it seemed -to him to write to his father and explain his share in the mischief. -But at last, one snowy winter day, only two weeks before the holidays, -he did it. He felt better as soon as the letter was mailed. He told -himself that no matter what his father said in reply, he knew he had at -last done right, and should be glad over it. Still he watched for the -home letter more anxiously than ever before. It was from his mother, -with a little note enclosed, for Carl’s private reading, from his -father. - -“A fellow couldn’t have a better letter,” said Carl, wiping his eyes, -and feeling a warm glow in his heart for the dear father who had been -so kind and gentle, and yet honest and plain-spoken. Less than a -week afterwards, Carl was on his way home. His mind was in a strange -confusion as the train neared the home station. He could not help -feeling just a little sorry that his father was at home. “Of course -he will punish me,” thought the poor fellow. “I suppose he must; he -always punishes disobedience. What if he should not let me see mother -to-night! Or perhaps he will not let me go to Grandma’s with the family -to-morrow. I’d most rather he would whip me, and perhaps he will!” - -Over this thought the twelve-year-old boy’s heart almost stood still. -His father had not often punished him in this way, but on the very -rare occasions when it had to be done, it was managed in such a manner -that Carl distinctly remembered it. By the time the train ran into -the station he had succeeded in working himself up to such a pitch -of excitement that he was almost tempted to run away, to avoid the -disgrace of this home-coming. But his father was there, waiting. - -“Here’s my boy!” Carl heard him say, and in a minute more the father’s -arms were around him, and the father’s kiss was on his cheeks. Mother -was waiting in the carriage, and not a word during the quick ride home, -nor at the joyous supper table afterwards, was said to him about his -fault. They went to Grandma’s the next day in great happiness, and -the next day they went to Uncle Will’s. “I am having a holiday,” his -father explained, “in honor of my boy’s home-coming. I am taking a -longer vacation from business than I have had before in two years.” The -days passed, and not a word was said to Carl about his disobedience -and falseness. Nobody could be kinder or more thoughtful for his -comfort and pleasure than his father, yet Carl could not help wondering -when and how his punishment was to come. At last, one evening, when -they were alone together for a few minutes, he resolved to discover. -“Father,” he said, and his voice trembled a little, “when are you going -to punish me?” - -His father turned astonished eyes upon him. “Punish you, my dear boy! -For what?” - -Carl’s cheeks were very red. “Why, father, don’t you know—surely you -remember? I wrote about it.” - -“But surely, my boy, I wrote you about it! Did I not tell you I forgave -you utterly?” - -“O, yes, sir! but then I thought—that you would think”—Carl stopped in -confusion. - -“You thought I must remember the sin, and punish the sinner, even -though I had forgiven him? Is that it?” - -“Yes, sir,” said Carl, low-voiced and troubled. - -“No,” said Mr. Hammond, and Carl noticed how tender his voice was; -“I do not remember anything about it in the sense which you mean. Do -you remember my telling you once that God meant fathers to be object -lessons to their children, giving them some faint idea, at least, of -what kind of a father God would be to those who trusted him?” - -“Yes, sir,” said Carl. - -“Very well, then, here on this card, which I would like you to keep in -your Bible, is my answer to your question.” - -The card was a lovely blue celluloid, and had printed on it in gold -letters, the words, “I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember -their sin no more.” - -One evening, when Carl was twenty years old, he repeated that verse -in a Christian Endeavor prayer meeting, and said that his father’s -commentary on it had made him understand it. Then he told, in brief, -the story which I have given you. - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - -[Illustration: HE REMEMBERED JUST HOW BUNCE LOOKED.] - -[Illustration: THE STATE HOUSE AT BOSTON.] - - - - -HOWARD’S WAY. - -(_Character Studies._) - - -THEY were all in the library after dinner, and were all talking at -once, as the Edwards family were inclined to be. “I don’t see why -we always have so much more to say than other people seem to,” Lora -Edwards had once remarked, setting them all into shouts of laughter. -Howard was not talking; his head was bent low over a Latin dictionary. -They were waiting for some of the family, because they always gathered -at this hour in the library for evening prayers; but Howard, while he -waited, saved the minutes, remembering the hard lesson of the morning, -and the liability to be interrupted in his study hour. - -The back parlor door was pushed open and Uncle Edward’s handsome form -appeared. “Where is Ashman Square?” he inquired. - -Several voices at once attempted to answer him. “It is just off of -Second Street,” said Lora. And Emma in the same breath said, “It is -over by the river somewhere; near Park Street, isn’t it?” Then Dickie, -“Why, Lora, it can’t be near Second Street, because Wyeth Avenue runs -in there.” - -“No, it doesn’t; Wyeth Avenue crosses at Third Street.” - -Then exclamations from at least four: “Why, Lora Edwards! Wyeth Avenue -isn’t near Third Street. I think Ashman Square is down by the Lincoln -Statue; isn’t it, papa?” - -“I am sure I don’t know,” said papa, who just then entered the room. -“The city changes so rapidly and adds so many fancy names that I cannot -keep track of it. Who wants to know—Edward? There is a map about -somewhere. I shouldn’t wonder if Ashman Square was down near the old -Ashman place, towards the river.” - -“There!” said Emma, “I was sure it was near the river.” - -“But the river is quite a stream, my dear niece,” Uncle Edward said, -smiling. - -“Yes; but Ashman Square is not very far down; it is near the Westfield -car line.” - -Then a perfect babel of voices ensued. - -“O, Emma, no!” - -“Emma Edwards! it is a quarter of a mile from the Eastman line, I am -certain.” - -“I don’t think Ashman Square is on this side at all; I think you are -all confused.” - -“Yes, it is; I pass it every day, but I don’t remember on which side -of the avenue it is. I go down one way and come up another, and so get -things mixed.” - -“I don’t think any of you know much about it,” said Uncle Edward, and -this time he laughed. Several voices began again in eager disclaimer, -but Father Edwards silenced them: “See here, children, we must have -prayers at once; I have an important engagement at seven. Afterwards, -one of you can find a map and settle your discussion.” - -Lora struck the chord and the entire family joined in: - - “While Thee I seek, protecting Power, - Be my vain wishes stilled.” - -In the momentary lull which there was as they rose from their knees, -Howard spoke, for the first time that evening. - -“Uncle Edward.” - -“Yes.” - -“About Ashman Square—do you know where the Station D post-office is?” - -“Perfectly.” - -“Well, Ashman Square begins two blocks east of that.” - -“So it does!” declared Lora; “why in the world didn’t some of us think -of the post-office? that would have located it.” - -“I never noticed how near it was to the post-office,” said Emma. “What -I would like to know is, why Howard did not speak before, and save us -all this talk.” - -“Sure enough!” said Dickie. “Did you find the answer to that conundrum -in your Latin dictionary? Why didn’t you look up, old fellow, and join -the colloquy?” - -“Couldn’t get a chance,” said Howard, with a good-natured smile; “you -all had a great deal to say, and were bent on saying it, all at once; -I thought I would keep still until the shower was over, and in the -meantime a grain of fact might be evolved out of it; but there wasn’t.” - -“Howard always waits until there is clear sailing,” said Lora. “I’ve -noticed that he is the only one in our family who isn’t apparently -burning to speak at the same moment when some one else is.” - -“And when he does speak it is to the point,” said Uncle Edward. “Much -obliged, my boy; you have saved me a bewildering tramp in the effort to -follow the directions of these voluble young ladies.” - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - - - - -ABOUT BOSTON. - -BY THE PANSIES. - - -MAMMA told me why it was named Boston. There was once in old England -a man so good and kind to sailors, and to people in distress on the -water, that he was named St. Botolph, because the word “Botolph” is -made from two words, which mean boat help. After a while the word -“Boston” grew out of the name, and the place where this man had lived -and died was called so. And Boston in New England was named for it. - - LUCY STEVENSON. - - * * * * * - -I SAW a picture of the first house that was ever built in Boston. It is -very homely. There are only a few windows, and one door, I think; and -it looks like some of the log cabins of the West. A man named William -Blackstone lived in this house all alone. It was built on a hill, and -the place where it stood is now part of a handsome street in Boston. -But the town was not called Boston when William Blackstone lived there; -it was Shawmut. - - WILLIAM BLAKE. - - * * * * * - -THEY used to have very strict laws in Boston about the Sabbath. From -Saturday at midnight until six o’clock on Sunday evening no hired -carriage could leave or enter the city, and during the hours of public -service no wagon of any sort was allowed to move through the streets -faster than a walk. Soon after the laws against using the bath-houses -on Sunday were made, a person who thought himself witty had printed in -the paper the following rhyme: - - “In superstition’s day, ’tis said, - Hens laid two eggs on Monday; - Because a hen would lose her head - Who laid an egg on Sunday. - Now our wise rulers and the law - Say none shall wash on Sunday, - So Boston folks must dirty go, - And wash them twice on Monday!” - REUBEN S. BENTON. - - * * * * * - -I READ about a town meeting which was held in Boston in 1789, in which -they voted that there should be “One writing school at the south part -of the town, one at the center, and one at the north part; and that in -these schools the children of both sexes shall be taught writing, and -also arithmetic in its various branches, including vulgar and decimal -fractions.” - -Another law passed at the same meeting was, that there should be “A -reading school in the north part of the town and one in the south -part, and that the children of both sexes should be taught to spell, -accent and read, both prose and verse.” Girls were allowed to attend -these schools only half the year—from April to October—but boys could -go in winter. This latter rule was changed in 1828, and the girls were -allowed to attend through the year until they were sixteen; boys could -attend only until they were fourteen. The Bible was the only reader -then in use. - - HELEN WESTOVER. - - * * * * * - -I WENT to Boston once to visit my grandfather, and he took me to lots -of places, and showed me the picture of Ann Pollard; she lived to be a -hundred and five years old, and she was the first to jump from the boat -when the colonists came over from Charlestown; she was only ten years -old then, and she gave a spring from the boat just as it was touching -the shore, and landed. Grandfather showed her to me, and told me about -her, because my name is Annie Pollard, and he said I had a little of -the spunk of my old ancestor. - - ANNIE POLLARD. - - * * * * * - -WE have been studying in school about John Hancock and his times, and -our teacher told us about his wife’s breakfast party at the old Hancock -House. It was in 1778, and a French fleet came into Boston harbor. -Governor Hancock proposed that the officers be invited to breakfast; -so his wife had her table set for thirty officers, and instead all -the under officers of the fleet came also—a hundred and twenty more -than were expected! Mrs. Hancock must have been in a panic for a few -minutes, but she got out of her difficulties. First, she ordered all -the cows on the Common milked, and the milk brought to her; then she -sent among her friends and borrowed cakes and other things to help out, -and gave them all a very nice breakfast. - -[Illustration: THE HANCOCK HOUSE.] - -The French count who commanded the fleet was very much pleased, and -invited the governor and his wife to visit his fleet and bring their -friends. This was Mrs. Hancock’s chance to be politely revenged upon -him for bringing so many people to breakfast; she invited five hundred -friends to go with her to the fleet! But they were politely received -and entertained elegantly. - - FANNIE BROOKS. - - * * * * * - -WE have a picture in our library of the old Hancock House. It isn’t -much of a house as those things go nowadays, but when Governor Hancock -lived there I suppose it looked fine. I like old John Hancock; it is -great fun to read about him. Of course it was all nonsense for him -to think that Washington ought to call on him first, that time when -Washington went to Boston to visit in 1789, but for all that I think -it was awfully cute, the way in which Hancock finally backed down. He -had the gout, you know, so he did himself up in flannel and had his men -carry him on their shoulders to call on Washington. If he had got to -make the first call he meant to do it in state, and he did. - - JOHN STUART WINTHROP. - - * * * * * - -WHEN I was just eight years old, my father spent a week in Boston with -me, and showed me the Museum, the Navy Yard, the School for the Blind -(I remember Laura Bridgman), the Idiot School, etc. He took me to the -top of Bunker Hill Monument; I remember I counted the two hundred and -ninety-seven steps. Not every father thinks that a child of eight -could appreciate such things. Many and many a time since then, have -I thanked my father for helping me to enjoy the remembrance of things -which I never expect to see again. During that visit to Boston a boy -ten years old took from my grandfather’s library a copy of one of -the “Jonas” books which he coveted. The book was never missed, but -twenty years afterwards the boy returned it with compound interest and -apologies; his heart had never been at rest about it. - - MRS. OLIVIA C. WARNE. - - * * * * * - -MY father was in Boston when the statue of John Winthrop was unveiled; -he walked in that great procession, and heard the speech made in the -Old South Church. I have been to Boston myself, and walked around that -very statue. It is in Scollay Square. Governor Winthrop is dressed just -as they used to dress in his time; he has a Bible in one hand, and a -copy of the king’s charter in the other. There is a carved rope wound -around a carved tree which stands for the ship that brought him over. I -went to the beautiful State House, too. It is the one which was begun -in Governor Hancock’s pasture! But it does not look much like a pasture -where it stands now. - - HARRY WESTFIELD. - -[Illustration: THE STATUE OF WINTHROP.] - - * * * * * - -ONCE I went to the old North Church in Boston. I went up the tower to -the steeple, where General Gage stood and watched Charlestown burn. -On the steeple is the date “1723.” The chime of bells on this church -are just lovely! I heard them play. One of them has on it these words: -“We are the first ring of bells cast for the British Empire in North -America.” Another bell says: “Since generosity has opened our mouths, -our tongues shall ring aloud its praise.” Inside the church are some -queer wooden angels. The pews are very old-fashioned. The Bible in -the desk was the one that George the Second gave to the church. After -making this visit I learned “Paul Revere” and recited it at school; you -know the signal lights which warned him shone from the steeple of the -Old North. - - MARY WINTHROP SMITH. - -[Illustration: THE OLD NORTH CHURCH.] - - [For want of space, we must bring this very interesting - bit of history about old Boston to a close. It is - certainly not for want of material that we do so, and - our hearty thanks are due the Pansies and their friends - for the letters full of interesting items which have - come to us. It is noticeable that the young people of - to-day are interested in Boston’s past, which is a wise - thing, for its history is full of suggestion for the - future. - - We earnestly hope that the city which we take up next, - viz.: Washington, D. C., may call out as many items of - interest from the young people.—EDITORS THE PANSY.] - - - - -MAJOR’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY. - - -IF Bose and Fido and Sport and the rest will keep still long enough, -I will tell you some things about myself which I should like you to -remember. - -I am growing old pretty fast, and if I had not the kindest master in -the world I would stand a slim chance. - -My smelling is good yet, and things taste nice enough, but my teeth -are nearly gone. Bones which once would have been a luxury, now do me -little good. The best I can do is to lap off a little of the meat and -grease. - -Yes, I can bark loud enough yet, but it vexes me terribly when I see -the cattle in the field where they do not belong, or some wicked boys -in the orchard stealing apples, to know that about all I can do is to -bark. - -I do not pretend that I have been a perfect dog, but I have had a great -deal of experience in my day, and am not without the hope that you, -my young friends, may profit by what I have seen and heard and felt -myself, and known in the lives of others. - -No, I shall not try to tell it all to-day; I have no wish to bore you -with “long yarns,” as the sailors say. Besides, there would not be time -before Fido might be wanted to go with his mistress across the pasture -when she takes that beef tea to Willie Jones. She never seems afraid -with her pet along. Bose, too, will be wanted to drive home the cows; -so I will tell you only a little to-day, and more another time. - -Where I was born I really do not know, but I am inclined to think it -was a great way from here, perhaps in another country; we will never -know, I suppose, though it seems to me it must be nice to know where -one came into the world, and what kind of father and mother he had. -But, dear me, I have seen some dogs, and folks too, who would have been -happier if they had never known their parents! - -I can just remember seeing my mother once. I think she must have been -beautiful. The man who took me away from her often said in my hearing -that I had her hair and eyes. - -I can remember how mother cried when they carried me away. I had never -seen her cry before, and though I was awfully frightened, yet I felt -sorry for her. - -I was petted enough, and had plenty to eat, but the journey was long, -and shut up in that little box I was dreadfully lonesome. - -But finally we reached home; then I had a warm bed, and a nice place; -but some nights I was terribly scared there in the dark all alone. The -boys had a pet donkey, and the first night I was there that fellow made -his horrid bray. My! I thought I should die with fright. Well, when I -had got a little used to the donkey, what should I hear in the tree -over my head but a horrid “To hoo! to who?” - -Yes, Sport, you may wag your tail and laugh; you know “who,” for you -are a full-grown dog, and know all about the great staring owl, but -with me it was a different matter. - -As I remarked before, I think, my master was kind, and so was mistress, -and they had no very small children to torment a little pup. Their -little girl was so sweet and kind, it was always a pleasure to kiss her -soft cheek; I do not believe she ever had any nice thing to eat that -she did not wish to share with me. - -Her brother was a noble fellow, too. Not always so thoughtful as his -sister, and sometimes pretty rough; but so long as he did not mean to -be ugly and hurt me, I could bear it. - -The worst, I remember, was when their cousins and some of the -neighbors’ children would come for the afternoon on a visit. - -At first I was glad to see so many little children, but I soon found -that all children had not such sweet dispositions as my master’s, or -else their parents had not taught them so carefully. - -We all ran and romped, and for a time it was jolly enough; but when my -young master and mistress were out of sight, one of those rough boys -would do something to torment me. He pulled my ears and my tail; once -he boxed my ears so hard that I cried right out. - -Then they put me on that donkey’s back, and while I was held there, the -creature made one of those dreadful noises! Then I cried so loud my -little mistress came and took me away. - -Once I was so frightened by those rude children that I hid under the -barn. I could hear them call my name and whistle for me, but I did not -mean to come out till the children had gone. - -It seemed a long time, but they finally went—I mean the visitors—and -then I was only too ready to get out, for it was growing pretty dark -where I was. - -We were all very much frightened, but when master came home he took a -big iron bar and pried a stone out, and made a hole big enough for me -to crawl through as easy as need be. - -I cannot make myself believe that those children remembered with -pleasure what they had done to me that day. They never looked sweet and -happy like little Lucy and her brother. - -I long ago came to the conclusion that if one would be happy he must -try to make others so; and I do not believe it makes much difference -whether he walks upon two legs or four. - -Another thing, I believe one’s usefulness depends very much upon -whether he keeps his eyes open or not. Why, one does not need to be -a full-grown dog to be able to make himself useful, and so thought a -great deal of. - -Take my case, for example: As I was saying, even when I was quite small -the hired man used to take me when he went after the cows at night. - -I suppose this was to give me the pleasure of a run in the pasture; -they took old Sport along to do the work of driving. He, poor fellow, -was getting pretty old, and could not run fast; but he was a good dog, -and was well educated. - -I did not at first understand how he could know so much—how he could -tell the oxen from the cows, and the cows from the steers; and when -there were other cattle mixed up with our master’s, on the road or -anywhere, how he could know which ones to drive in, and which to leave -or drive away. - -One day as we were waiting for the hired man to fix a little place in -the fence, Sport said something that astonished me greatly. - -I think I had been saying how I wished I knew as much as he, and could -do what he did. Then he gave me this hint. Said he, “I think our good -master is planning to have you take my place in a few months. Soon I -shall not be able to do the work, and if you watch out you will be able -to do all that I have done. Even now,” said he, “you are beginning to -save me a great many steps by starting up the cattle which are lagging -behind, or that get out of the way.” - -I shall never forget how pleased I was. I almost felt like another -dog, and was so glad to think that I could do anything worth any one’s -notice. I feel sure it was a great help to me to have him speak like -that, and cannot but think that a great many others might be encouraged -in the same way. - -Proud little puppy that I was, I almost split my throat barking at the -cattle that afternoon, and was much pleased to see that I could help. - -[Illustration: OLD MAJOR.] - -Well, it was not many weeks after that, when one day the hired man went -off fishing, and the master was all alone at home. It was late in the -afternoon, and he was resting upon the front steps, looking very tired, -for he was not well. I remember I had been wishing for the time to come -when I could do something, and would be big enough to watch things. You -see the fishing party had taken Sport with them to watch the wagon. I -was thought too young to be taken off so far. - -I had felt pretty sober all the morning, but the master had spoken very -kindly to me several times, and while sitting there had called me to -him and patted my head, and called me a nice little fellow. Finally he -looked up from the paper he had been reading and said, “Well, Major, it -is about time to go for the cows.” - -“Now is your chance,” I said to myself, and off over the big stone wall -I went. About the only thing I feared was that he would call me back, -but he seemed too much surprised for that; so I ran away as fast as my -four feet could carry me. - -I did not know so well then where to look for the cows, but scampered -around so fast that I soon caught sight of them and quickly had the -whole lot on their way to the yard. - -My only mistake was in doing my job too well, for I drove up the oxen -and steers and yearlings as well as the cows. - -When I had them all near the gate then I barked as hard as I could, and -the master came and let down the bars, and drove in the cows and let -the others go back. - -Then I remembered how it was generally done, and felt much ashamed of -my blunder. But master called me to him and petted me, and told me I -had been a good fellow. Then late in the evening, when the others came -home, he told them how I had surprised him by driving up the cows, and -never said a word about my mistake in driving up the other cattle. I -think that was so kind of him! I know a great many who would have been -either so thoughtless or unkind as to have made fun of a youngster’s -little blunder when trying to do his best. But he was not that kind of -a man. You may be sure I never made that mistake again. - -Then old Sport came over to my kennel, and congratulated me heartily -on driving up the cows. All I could do was to thank him, and tell him -it was because of the way he had encouraged me, helping me to think I -might do something. - -There have been many changes in farming since I can remember, but the -cows have to be got and milked just as ever, only there seem to be more -of them, and so I must not keep you any longer this time. - - R. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: OUR GRANDPARENTS AT SCHOOL.] - -[Illustration: MAKING THE DUST FLY.] - - - - -BABY’S CORNER. - -A HAPPY LITTLE GIRL. - - -BESSIE has good times. She lives in the country where the hills are -white with snow. - -Every morning after breakfast she puts on her long cloak and her warm -hood and mittens, and goes to school with her brothers. The schoolhouse -is half a mile away, but she loves to go. - -[Illustration: BESSIE GIVES CARLO A RIDE.] - -Sometimes she runs and draws her sled. It is a new one, painted red, -and is one of her Christmas presents. - -Sometimes she sits on the sled, and her brothers give her a nice ride. -They play they are ponies, and run very fast. Then Bessie shouts and -laughs, and is happy. - -Their home is in that little house beyond the hill. You can see the -roof, and the smoke curling up from the chimney. - -They are on their way home from school now. - -Just as they got to the top of the hill Carlo came to meet them. He -wagged his tail and licked Bessie’s hand, he was so glad to see her, -for Carlo gets lonely without playmates all day. - -The boys saw a rabbit run through the fence, and they went up to watch -for it. - -“Carlo shall have a ride,” said Bessie. So she took him in her arms and -got upon the sled at the top of the hill. - -She gave it a little push, and away they went, whiz! down the long hill -so swiftly and smoothly. Oh! it was good fun. - -Two more rides they took, then Charlie picked up the bag and said, -“Come, Bess.” - -When they get home mamma will have a nice warm supper ready for them. - -After that they will go out and ride down hill until dark. - - MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON. - - - - -THE SAND MAN. - - - EACH night a man goes round our town, - And into eyes of blue and brown, - He sprinkles, with a careful hand, - The finest, softest grains of sand. - - Then as sweet blossoms close at night, - O’er shining eyes fall curtains white; - For all these precious grains of sand - Are gathered up in Slumber Land. - - ’Tis there the peaceful river gleams - Where children sail in happy dreams; - The Sand Man takes them in his boat, - So off my little pet must float. - MYRA GOODWIN PLANTZ. - -[Illustration: TEDDY AND MARGARET CLIMBED INTO THE STRANGE WAGON.] - - - - -“IF I ONLY HADN’T!” - - -NOBODY could have started out with better intentions than did Teddy -Brockway that bright spring morning. It is true it was only March, but -Teddy lived so far South that the month of March meant spring; he was -dressed in a neat spring suit, had his little sister Margaret by the -hand, and Sally Amelia, her dollie, under his special care, and was -started for a trip all by themselves to old Auntie Blaikslee’s, almost -a half-mile away! - -“Aren’t you afraid to let those two babies go off alone?” Grandmamma -asked, looking up from her knitting with a somewhat troubled face. - -Mrs. Brockway smiled as she answered: “O, no! what could harm them? -Teddy knows every foot of the way as well as I do, and every neighbor -along the road; and everybody knows him. Besides, he is seven years -old, and I must begin to trust him.” However, she went to the door and -called after them: “Remember, Teddy, I trust Margaret to you. It isn’t -every little boy of your age who can be depended upon to take care of -his sister. And, Teddy, remember you are not to ride with any strange -person who may ask you.” - -“Course not!” said Teddy, with dignity; “not unless he is Uncle Ben or -Deacon West. I can ride with Deacon West—can’t we, muvver?” - -“O, yes!” said Mrs. Brockway, smiling. “He is not much more likely to -meet Deacon West on this road than he is to meet the man in the moon,” -she said laughingly to grandma, “but he has to provide for all the -possibilities.” - -Two hours afterwards Teddy and Margaret, with Sally Amelia somewhat -the worse for being handled by all the grandchildren of old Auntie -Blaikslee, were trudging back in triumph. The errand entrusted to them -had been carefully done, and Teddy had said over the message he was to -give his mother until he knew it by heart, and had bravely resisted -two invitations from good-natured teamsters to have a ride. He was -almost within sight of the corner where they turned into their own -grounds, and Margaret had been good and minded beautifully. Truth to -tell, Teddy’s heart was swelling with importance; he had never before -been sent on so long a trip with only Margaret for company. He felt at -least ten years old. At the top of the hill he came to a halt. There, -just in front of them, jogging comfortably along, was Jake Winchell, -Judge Aker’s hired man. Everybody knew Jake and his old horse and cart, -but nobody, or at least Teddy, had ever happened to meet him in that -direction before; his road always lay the other way. - -“Halloo!” he said, getting out to fix something about the harness, and -spying the children as he did so, “here’s luck; an almost empty cart -and two nice passengers to have a ride in it down the hill. Don’t you -want to jump in?” - -Teddy never wanted anything worse. For a small minute he hesitated. -What was that “muvver” had said? “You are not to ride with any strange -person who may ask you.” “Course not!” said Teddy again, indignant with -himself; “just as though Jake was a strange person.” But even while his -heart said the words, a voice away down deep contradicted it: “Teddy -Brockway, don’t you know she meant anybody you are not used to riding -with? And you never had a ride with Jake.” - -“What of that?” said Teddy’s other thought, still impatiently; “that’s -because he never comes the way we live; but I’ve talked with him, and -muvver said she thought he was kind to boys, and patient with them, -and everything. Just as if she would care for Margaret and me to ride -down hill to the gate! We’re most there; and it is a bad hard hill for -Margaret; and she has had a long walk.” - -“Yes, sir, thank you,” he said aloud to Jake, smiling and bowing like -a gentleman. “I should like to ride ever so much, for Margaret’s sake; -she is tired.” - -“All right,” said Jake, with a good-natured chuckle; “climb in and I’ll -tuck her in after you, and take you a few miles on your road as well as -not.” - -Little Margaret, who paid small attention to cautions, and who -expected that everybody in the world was bound to be kind to her and -help take care of her, took this ride as a matter of course, and was -soon seated beside Teddy, with Sally Amelia tucked safely under her -arm. Jake decided to walk down the hill. “It’s a pretty steep pitch for -this part of the world,” he explained, “and the harness ain’t none of -the safest; I guess I better walk.” - -Teddy looked at the harness and trembled. What would his mother say if -she could hear that? Even now it was not too late to ask Jake to set -them back again on the dusty road, but how he would laugh and call him -a coward! Teddy couldn’t, and the down-hill ride began. - -What made that poor old half-blind horse stumble on a hidden root that -particular morning and pitch the crazy old cart forward with such a -sudden lunge as to send Teddy rolling down the hill faster than the -horse could have traveled? Above all, how did it happen that Margaret -did not fall out, but lay flat in the bottom of the cart and screamed? -Nobody knows how any of it happened. They only know that when the -almost distracted Jake had succeeded in getting the horse on his feet, -and lifting Margaret in his arms, and trying his best to hush her had -stumbled with all speed to the spot where Teddy had stopped rolling, -the poor little fellow had fainted, and had to be carried by Jake to -the very door of his mother’s house, Margaret trudging solemnly along -by his side, occasionally asking pitifully why Teddy went to “s’eep,” -and why he didn’t wake up. - -Poor Teddy “waked up” almost too soon for his comfort. It had been a -terrible pain, when he tried to pick himself up from the road, which -had made him faint. - -Days afterwards, as he lay in his white bed with his leg done in -“splints,” whatever they were, and watched the long, bright spring days -full of Southern sunshine and sweet smells, and thought how long it -would be before he could run about again, he would sigh out wearily, -“O, muvver! if I only hadn’t!” Of course his mother tried to comfort -him. Once she said: “But, Teddy dear, you did not mean to do wrong. -You supposed of course that because Jake was considered an honest, -clean-souled man, mother would be willing to have you ride with him. -It was what we call an error in judgment. If I were you I would be glad -that you escaped with only a broken leg, and that dear little Margaret -was not hurt at all, and then try to forget about it.” - -Teddy considered this for some minutes with a grave face, and in his -eyes an earnest longing to take the comfort to his heart. But at last -he spoke, in the slow, old-fashioned way he sometimes had: “No, muvver, -it was an error in want-to! I knew ‘not to ride with any strange -person’ meant with any person that you had not let me ride with before; -and I knew I wasn’t doing real heart right; so if Margaret had been -hurt it would have been my fault. O, muvver! if I only hadn’t!” - - PANSY. - - - - -ABOUT WASHINGTON. - -BY THE PANSIES. - - -I READ a letter written by Mrs. President Adams in 1796. In it she -complains that there are not nearly lamps enough to light the White -House decently, and that the making of the daily fires in all the -rooms, “to keep off the ague,” occupies the entire time of one or -two servants. She says there are no looking-glasses in the house but -“dwarfs.” I think Mrs. President Harrison must have found a very -different state of things. It is just like women to complain about -there not being looking-glasses! - - JOHN WEST. - - * * * * * - -MY great-grandfather used to be in Washington in Congress, when Daniel -Webster was there. My father has told me all about it; they had great -speeches. Grandfather heard Henry Clay when he made his wonderful -speech. I’d like to have been with him! Father read to us last night -about the speech, and in the book it said there were at that time two -little boys, one eight years old and the other ten, whom nobody knew -anything about until afterwards. One of them went to a primary school -in Boston and studied a primer, and the other didn’t go to school at -all, but had to work hard. The primer boy was named Sumner, and the -other boy was Abraham Lincoln. I guess if the people in Washington had -known what those two boys were going to do a little later, they would -have been astonished. - - LINCOLN STEVENSON. - -[Illustration: The Washington Monument 505 feet] - - * * * * * - -MY father and mother lived in Washington in 1860. Father says it wasn’t -much like a city then; there were no street cars, and they did not -light the streets, only Pennsylvania Avenue, and they got their water -from pumps or springs. There were no sewers, and the streets were not -paved, and the parks were all full of weeds. He told me about it one -day last spring when we were in Washington, and sat under the trees -in beautiful Stanton Square. I could hardly believe that the lovely -city ever looked as he described it. And to think that that was only a -little over thirty years ago! Father says the changes seem like a dream -to him. - - LILIAN PRESCOTT. - - * * * * * - -IN 1808 there were only about five thousand people in Washington, -and lots of fun was made of the city. A great many people wanted the -Capitol moved farther North, and the papers were filled with jokes -about the “City in the mud,” “City of streets without houses,” “Capitol -of huts,” and all that sort of thing. I wish some of those simpletons -who wrote that way could ride down Pennsylvania Avenue now! But they -can’t, because they are all dead. - - ARTHUR BURKHARDT. - - * * * * * - -MY mother used to be in Washington when the Northwest, where so many -elegant houses are, was just a great swamp! When we were there a year -ago she took me to walk on Connecticut Avenue, and showed me where -she and Aunt Nannie used to play hide-and-seek. The elegant building -belonging to the British Legation stands there now, and in every -direction the houses and lawns are lovely! I asked mamma how they came -to be allowed to play on such an elegant street, and she laughed, and -said nobody in those days thought of such a thing as its ever being -elegant around there. It seems queer to think what changes there must -have been in a few years. My Auntie lives on Connecticut Avenue now, -and I think it is one of the prettiest streets in Washington. - - ALICE BARNES. - - * * * * * - -MY brother Robert liked the great dome best, but I was very fond of -the bronze door at the main entrance of the Capitol. I had just been -studying all about Columbus when I went to Washington, and it was so -interesting to see his history carved on the door. Then I staid in the -rotunda a long time. I like round rooms when they are very large. The -paintings are beautiful. There was one of Columbus landing, and one -which showed the Pilgrims just starting, and one of Pocahontas being -baptized. I like to look at pictures of things that I know about. Of -course I went up the round-and-round iron stairway which leads to the -dome. I stood under the statue of Freedom and looked down at the city. -It was beautiful. - - CARRIE FOSTER. - -[Illustration: VIEW OF THE CAPITOL.] - - * * * * * - -WE went, last winter, to the Library of Congress. My uncle went almost -every day, and I had to go with him, because I had nowhere else to -go while he was there; but I had a nice book to read, and I liked -it. The room is made of iron—I mean the shelves and rafters and all -those things are—and the roof is of copper. It is said to be the only -library in the world that is entirely fire proof. There are more than -six hundred thousand books, and thousands and thousands of pamphlets -in this library. Every book which has been copyrighted has to send two -copies to the library. It is about ninety years since books were first -gathered there. It was in 1800 that Congress voted to use five thousand -dollars toward buying books for a library. I suppose they thought -that would get books enough to last for a century, but hundreds of -thousands of dollars have been spent for them since. I saw the new -library building going up. It is to cost nearly five millions. When it -is finished they will have room for four million books! It is to have a -gallery three hundred and fifty feet long, for pictures and beautiful -things. - -My uncle says this letter is too long; but I do not know what to leave -out, so I will send it. - - MARGARET WINTERS. - - * * * * * - -I WENT to Congress two or three times last winter. They behave better -in the Senate than they do in the House. In fact, I don’t think the -people in the House were gentlemanly. They smoked, and they quarreled, -and three or four tried to talk at once! - - ANNA BROOKS. - - [This by no means exhausts the items of interest - about Washington, but the article grows so long that - we must omit the others, sorry as we are to do so. - It is certainly a great pleasure to find our Pansies - so wide awake, and so successful in selecting items - which cannot fail to interest others. Remember the - next city, and be in time for us to make careful - selections.—EDITORS.] - - - - -MAJOR’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY. - - -II. - -ALTHOUGH I am a dog myself I do wonder how some of my race can afford -to waste so much love upon masters who have so little love for them, -or, it would seem, for any one else. - -Now, for instance, there is Mr. Billings who lives on the hill; just -think how he ill-treats and almost starves his dog, cuffing, scolding, -licking him; and yet that poor fellow is just as glad to see him the -next time as though he had been petted, and is ready to hunt, drive -cows or sheep, or watch all night. - -I have known that dog ever since he came into the neighborhood, and I -knew old man Billings long before. - -Being up that way I had a few words with friend Dash the day he -arrived. I found him to be friendly—a dog that any man might love and -be proud of. I was awfully sorry for him then, and have been ever -since, for I did not think much of his master. - -Sometimes, when I see the poor fellow coming, looking so lean and -hungry, I run out into the road with the best bone I have on hand, for -a bit of a lunch, and leave it where I know Dash will find it. My! it -does me good to see him take it down. - -I often think of him trotting for fifteen or twenty miles after that -team, and as likely as not without a mouthful of breakfast before -starting. - -This is not mere surmise; he told me so one day—said he had been all -day with nothing to eat but a scrap or two which he happened to find -on the way; for he had not time to hunt for anything while in town, -because he had to stay and watch the things in the wagon. It’s too bad, -too bad! - -Just think what Dash has done for that man! - -You never heard about it? - -Well, I will tell you. It was in the spring of last year—the time for -washing sheep. When Mr. Billings went for his sheep, all his children -who were big enough to help drive went along. - -As he never pets anything that he has, so he never petted his sheep, -therefore as soon as they heard him call they were much more afraid of -him than they would have been of our master, I really believe, so away -they went as fast as their legs could carry them. - -If it had not been for Dash, Mr. Billings and all his boys could never -have penned those creatures. But he seemed to know just what to do, and -it was not long before they seemed to feel as though they had found a -friend instead of an enemy in this dog; he worked like a good fellow, -as he is. - -After much skillful maneuvering, hard running and gentle barking, the -sheep were all finally gotten into the pen, where Billings and his boys -could take them one by one and wash them with the water which fell over -the dam. - -After the father and older boys were gone, little Bennie Billings, who -is only a few months more than three years old, crawled through the -garden fence and started after the others. - -His mother did not miss him, thinking he had gone with his brothers. As -it was, Bennie came trotting along while the rest were absorbed in the -work of washing sheep, and so was not noticed by any one of them. - -But faithful Dash had his eye upon him all the while, and felt that it -was more important that he should look after the boy than the lambs. - -He tried hard to keep between Bennie and the water, but this he was not -long able to do. - -Sliding down the bank the boy crawled out upon a slippery rock, and -from that fell into the water. - -It was deep, and Dash had all he could do to drag the little fellow -to the land. He could not pull him out; but holding on as well as he -could, he growled very loud. - -Dash was getting pretty tired, and the case was growing desperate, when -a neighbor hearing the growl, came to the rescue. - -Poor Bennie was almost gone; he would not have lived much longer; but -if help had not come, Dash would have died with the little chap he was -trying to save. - -Think of that father kicking Dash after that, or ever forgetting to -give him all he needed to eat! You would think the boy’s mother would -look after her child’s rescuer; but it is said she has little to do -with. - -It would not seem so strange if the faithful fellow were not all the -time doing things worthy of being remembered. - -It was only last fall, when the corn was well grown, that this hard -master came home one rainy night and forgot to fasten the gate after -him. There were a great many cattle upon the road, and Dash told me he -could hear the bell upon one old cow dingling away as plain as day all -the time the master was unharnessing the horses. He said he ran out by -the gate and barked as loud as he could when Mr. Billings was going -into the house; but it did no good. So there was nothing for him to do -but go and stay there all night in the hard rain. - -Telling me about it he said: “I wouldn’t have minded it, though it was -so cold and wet, if master had noticed it; if he had just said, ‘Good -faithful fellow, you saved our garden and cornfield!’ but he never -noticed me except to scold me for getting in the way when I came into -the kitchen to warm myself a little, though he knew there were more -than twenty head of cattle which would have been in that garden and -cornfield if I had not kept them out.” - -But for all that he would do the same things over again, or anything -else that he can do for the comfort and help of his hard master. - -I suspect Dash misses these little kindnesses more for the reason that -he has not always been used to such treatment. - -You see he once had a good master; but the man was taken ill and had to -go away, and for some reason could not take Dash with him. - -One day when we met down town near the post-office he told me this -story. - -By some mishap the house of his former master took fire. How it -happened he did not seem to know. The mistress had gone into a -neighbor’s house for a few moments, and had left her baby asleep in the -cradle, in charge of a little girl, while Dash watched at the front -gate to see that no tramp came in. - -Said he, “I smelt something, and looked around just in time to see that -little girl as she ran out of the front door crying ‘Fire!’ - -“In a moment I thought of Baby, and saw that the girl had left it in -the house; so I dashed through the door and into the thick smoke, and -finding the cradle I caught the child by his frock, and pulling with -all my might I got him out on the floor and dragged him to the door. -Just as I got him to the first step, where we could breathe again, the -mother arrived. - -“But she came too late to have saved her baby if it had been in the -cradle then, for that was already in full blaze. As it was, the poor -thing was almost smothered with the smoke. - -“How that mother hugged and kissed me! She made so much ado about it -that I felt almost ashamed. Yet I must confess it was gratifying to -know that the mother appreciated what I had done. - -“Well, after that there was nothing in the house too good for me to -eat, no place where I was not welcome, no kennel too nice for me to -sleep in, nor was there any lack of petting.” - -Just imagine what a change from a home such as that, to the miserable -one he now has to endure. - -I do feel so sorry for him! - -Sometimes I feel as though I should not be as faithful as Dash is if I -were in his place; yet I must not forget that duty is duty, and that -one must not do wrong because he has not been treated as he should be. - -If this poor fellow’s case were a solitary one, it would not seem so -bad; but I am sorry to say that all over our land there are as faithful -fellows as Dash treated no better than he. - -Think of those dogs with drunken masters! Think how much they have to -endure of hunger and cold and abuse, though they are as faithful as -life. I can hardly keep from growling when I think of it! - -But I must not talk in this way any longer to-day. I have spent the -hour speaking of another, so we must wait till some other time before I -can tell you anything more of my own experience. - -Indeed I was not intending to talk all the time about myself; I would -like to set before you a little of the lives of the best of our race, -such as will afford you excellent examples for imitation, that your -lives may be good and true. - - R. - -[Illustration: BENNIE’S FRIEND.] - -[Illustration: SILENT PARTNERS.] - - - - -VESUVIUS. - - -NEARLY two thousand years ago there was a mountain, and its name was -Vesuvius. From the foot of it to the very top it was almost like a -garden. - -At the bottom were two great cities, called Herculaneum and Pompeii. -The mountain is there now, and near it is the city of Naples in Italy. - -[Illustration: ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS, 1880.] - -One day, when everything was going on in those great cities just as -usual, an awful sound was heard like the firing of ten thousand of the -biggest cannon; the earth shook as if it was going to pieces, then -it grew dark like night. The sky was filled with flying cinders, or -something like ashes; the air had a sulphurous smell. All the people -wondered. Some ran into the street, some took to the boats and rowed -away as fast as possible, some screamed. Children clung to their -mothers, hiding their faces in their dresses. Animals broke away and -ran furiously, dashing themselves against the rocks or plunging into -the sea; the very birds sighed as they swept through the sky. - -The mountain—this Vesuvius—was on fire; the fire was spouting from its -top in terrific forms. Smoke, such as you have never seen it, leaped as -the darkest thunder clouds upward, while melted earth and rock ran down -the sides of Vesuvius like a devouring flood. Before it, the gardens -fled away. On it came, rushing, foaming, burning. It leaped upon the -houses and buried them, whole streets at once. So suddenly it came that -few of the people escaped. What a time was that! - -Think of a whole city, like Philadelphia, buried ten or twenty feet -deep, so that in the place of the grand palaces, stores and temples, -nothing was seen but a smoking furnace—red-hot lava! - -Not a great while since people began to dig. They dug and dug, and -after years of digging there were the streets again and buildings, the -merchant selling his goods, babies sleeping in their mamma’s arms, a -bride and groom standing up to be married, a funeral procession coming -from a house, a miser counting his money, a cruel father beating his -child, a loving mother kissing her son, a marriage feast in this -house, a dying parent in that. Just as the fierce, quick flood of lava -found them, so it buried them, and so they were found after nearly two -thousand years! - -Since that awful day the volcano, Vesuvius, has been on fire again and -again. - - L. - - - - -AURORA LEIGH. - -(_English Literature Papers._) - - -HOW many of my Pansies are acquainted with her? She is “a woman in a -book,” and the book was written by a woman of whom you have surely -heard—Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I want you to know something about -this story book and its author. There are those who think the story is -too “grown-up” to interest children; but that is because they do not -understand certain kinds of children very well. When I was a little -girl of ten, I was very fond of narrative poems, and read some which -were judged far above my understanding. - -Would you like a picture of Aurora’s room, as she describes it? Listen: - - “I had a little chamber in the house - As green as any privet hedge a bird - Might choose to build in. . . . - The walls were green, the carpet was pure green, - The straight small bed was curtained greenly, - And the folds hung green about the window, - Which let in the out-door world with all its greenery. - You could not push your head out and escape - A dash of dawn-dew from the honeysuckle.” - -Poor Aurora lost her mother when she was four years old, and her dear, -dear father when she was just a little girl. Then she sailed across the -ocean from her home in Italy to her father’s old home in England. When -she first saw English soil, this is the way she felt: - - . . . “oh, the frosty cliffs looked cold upon me! - Could I find a home among those mean red houses, - Through the fog?. . . Was this my father’s England? - . . . . . . - I think I see my father’s sister stand - Upon the hall-step of her country house - To give me welcome. She stood straight and calm, - Her somewhat narrow forehead braided tight - As if for taming accidental thoughts - From possible quick pulses. Brown hair - Pricked with gray by frigid use of life. - A nose drawn sharply, yet in delicate lines; - A close mild mouth . . . eyes of no color; - Once they might have smiled, but never, never - Have forgot themselves in smiling.” - -You cannot imagine, I think, any life more unlike what Aurora had been -used to in her home in Florence, than the one to which she came in -England. She describes her aunt’s life as— - - “A sort of cage-bird life, born in a cage, - Accounting that to leap from perch to perch - Was act and joy enough for any bird. - Dear Heaven, how silly are the things - That live in thickets, and eat berries! - I, alas, a wild bird scarcely fledged, - Was brought to her cage, and she was there to meet me. - Very kind! ‘Bring the clean water; give out the fresh seed!’” - -You wonder what sort of a little girl she was? She tells us: - - “I was a good child on the whole, - A meek and manageable child. Why not? - I did not live to have the faults of life. - There seemed more true life in my father’s grave - Than in all England. . . . . . - At first I felt no life which was not patience; - Did the thing she bade me, without heed - To a thing beyond it; sat in just the chair she placed - With back against the window, to exclude - The sight of the great lime-tree on the lawn, - Which seemed to have come on purpose from the woods - To bring the house a message.” - -So quiet was she, and pale, and sad, that her aunt’s friends visiting -there, whispered about her that “the child from Florence looked ill, -and would not live long.” This made her glad, for she was homesick for -her father’s grave. But her cousin, Romney Leigh, a boy somewhat older -than herself, took her to task for this. He said to her: - - “You’re wicked now. You wish to die, - And leave the world a-dusk for others, - With your naughty light blown out.” - -Well, she did not die, but lived to be a sweet, proud, brave, foolish, -sorrowful, glad, happy woman! You think my words contradict one -another? No; they may belong to one life, and often do. - -I do not mean that you will be interested in all her story—hers and -“Cousin Romney’s”—not yet awhile. Some day you will read it, study it, -I hope, for the beauty of the language, and for the moral power there -is in it. Just now, my main object is to introduce you, so that when -you hear the name “Aurora Leigh,” you may be able to say: “I know her; -she is one of Mrs. Browning’s characters—a little girl from Florence, -who lived with an aunt in England.” Or when you hear Mrs. Browning’s -name, you will say, or think: “She wrote a long poem once, named Aurora -Leigh.” - -Why should you care to know that? Because, my dear, it is a little -crumb of knowledge about English Literature, a study which I am hoping -you are going to greatly enjoy by and by. - -Oh! Mrs. Browning wrote many other poems, though the one about which we -have been talking is perhaps considered her greatest. There are some -which I think you must know and love. For instance: - - “Little Ellie sits alone - ’Mid the beeches of a meadow, - By a stream-side on the grass; - And the trees are showering down - Doubles of their leaves in shadow, - On her shining hair and face. - - “She has thrown her bonnet by, - And her feet she has been dipping - In the shallow water’s flow; - Now she holds them nakedly - In her hands, all sleek and dripping, - While she rocketh to and fro. - - “Little Ellie sits alone, - And the smile she softly uses - Fills the silence like a speech; - While she thinks what shall be done— - And the sweetest pleasure chooses - For her future within reach.” - -There are seventeen verses; of course I have not room for them, but you -will like to find the poem and read for yourselves. It is entitled “The -Romance of the Swan’s Nest.” - -Then there is that wonderful poem of hers called “The Cry of the -Children.” Surely you ought to know of that. It was suggested to her -by reading the report which told about children being employed in the -mines and manufactories of England. It is said that Mrs. Browning’s -poem was the means of pushing an act of Parliament which forbade the -employment of young children in this way. The poem has thirteen long -verses, every one of which you should carefully read. Let me give you -just a taste: - - “Do you hear the children weeping, O, my brothers! - Ere the sorrow comes with years? - They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, - And that cannot stop their tears! - The young lambs are bleating in the meadows; - The young birds are chirping in the nest; - The young fawns are playing with the shadows; - The young flowers are blowing toward the west; - But the young, young children, O, my brothers! - They are weeping bitterly. - They are weeping in the playtime of the others, - In the country of the free. - . . . . . . - - “‘True,’ say the children, ‘it may happen - That we die before our time; - Little Alice died last year; her grave is shapen - Like a snowball in the rime. - We looked into the pit prepared to take her; - There’s no room for any work in the coarse clay; - From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her, - Crying ‘Get up, little Alice! it is day.’ - If you listen by that grave in sun and shower, - With your ear down, little Alice never cries. - Could we see her face, be sure we should not know her, - For the smile has time for growing in her eyes. - And merry go her moments, lulled and stilled - In the shroud by the kirk-chime. - ‘It is good, when it happens,’ say the children, - ‘That we die before our time.’” - -It will never do to take more room with this paper, and I have told you -almost nothing about the dear lady who voiced the children’s cry so -wonderfully, and to such purpose! Suppose you let me take her story, -little bits of it, for the next PANSY. Besides, I want to introduce you -to her dear “Flush.” - - PANSY. - -[Illustration: MRS. BROWNING’S AURORA LEIGH.] - - - - -BABY’S CORNER. - - -A GOOD TIME. - -THIS is Trudy. She is all ready to go with papa. - -They are going up in the woods to the “sugar bush.” - -It is April—a bright, sunshiny day, but the wind is cold, so she has to -wear her warm coat and hood. - -[Illustration: JOHN BROUGHT THE PAILS OF SAP.] - -As Trudy ran along through the woods she saw a little bluebird singing -on a branch, and she found yellow violets and tiny blue flowers with a -long name. They had just poked up their heads through the snow. Brave -little blossoms they were! - -Wooden pails hung on all the maple-trees. The sap was running into -them. When the pails were full of sap John, the hired man, brought it -into the little sugar house and boiled it, and made nice cakes of maple -sugar. - -The house had a great fireplace. A bright fire was crackling there. - -Trudy sat down on a stool and warmed her toes. - -[Illustration: TRUDY.] - -There was a big black kettle over the fire; it was almost full of sap. -It bubbled and boiled and made a good smell. - -John stirred it with a long wooden spoon. He stirred and stirred a long -time, and the fire snapped and the sap boiled, and Trudy watched, and -by and by it was done! - -Then papa got a pan of snow, and John dropped little bits from the -spoon all over the snow. - -When it was cool Trudy put in her thumb and finger, and plump! went one -of the little brown balls into her mouth. Oh! but it was good. Trudy -thought maple candy was ever so much better than the pink and white -stuff she bought at the stores. - -She ate and ate, till papa said, “No more, dearie.” So she carried the -rest of it to little brother. - -They rode home on the wood sled, drawn by two big oxen. Trudy said it -was just the “beautifulest time” she ever had in her life. - -She whispered to papa that she thought God was very good to make so -many big trees full of candy just to please little girls and boys. - - MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON. - - - - -[Illustration: The Little Queen] - - -THERE you have a fine Holland house, a palace rather. Come, let us go -in. Just think, you have a royal invitation. Well, here we are. In -this elegant room is a kingly throne. In that beautiful chair sits the -little Queen of Holland. - -Doesn’t this Miss look like a wise sovereign, able to command armies -and navies and make laws? - -Now you laugh. But come out into her big back yard, and you shall see -our little maid rule her subjects. See how obedient they are, running -to her or fleeing from her as fast as their legs can carry them—and -their wings too— - -“Wings!” - -Why, bless you, yes. This little Queen has one hundred and fifty cooing -doves. She is their beloved mistress, feeding and fondling them, -calling them by name, they laughing, singing, talking for her, after -the dear dove fashion. - -But look! there comes the Shetland pony, and quick as a cat she is -on his back, and away they go down the road, gallopty, gallop, she -tossing back a kiss to her mamma, the Queen Regent, who looks from -the palace window. There she comes back, her face full of roses and -laughter. - -Twenty minutes more, and she is a student like any of you, with -spelling-book, pen or geography, or thumbing the piano or reading aloud -to her mother. She is her mother’s constant companion. She is up at 7 -A. M., and kneeling at her mother’s knee, says her morning prayers. - -She is often dressed completely in white, even to gloves and stockings. -Watch and see what she will be in coming years. - - L. - - - - -A WONDERFUL STONE. - - -A MR. MENINGER of New Orleans, while visiting in the town of -Chilpanzingo, Mex., saw a rock there which he—and others—says foretells -rain twenty-four hours in advance! - -In fair weather it is grayish, very smooth and cold, but when it is -going to rain it becomes a dingy red at the base, pink at the top, and -it becomes warmer and warmer till the rain falls. If there is much -lightning, the stone becomes charged (filled) like an electrical jar, -so that you cannot safely approach it. - -After the rain it goes back to its first state of color and coldness. - - L. - - - - -THE FIRST CHRISTMAS. - - - WHY so soon with flocks returning? - O, dear father, tell us why: - Scarce the night lamps ceased their burning, - Scarce the stars dimmed in the sky - When we heard the distant bleating - Of the flock come o’er the lea; - While the stars were still retreating - Thou wert coming o’er the lea; - Home so early in the morning! - Sheep and lambs so fast you’re leading - To the fold at early dawning, - At the time of sweetest feeding! - - Ill, dear father, art thou? Surely - Suffering art thou? Tell us true! - Has some lambie been unruly— - Wandered far away from view? - Must thou go across the mountain, - Starting in the morning gray, - Search by vale, and rock, and fountain - For the lost one, gone astray? - But thy face is bright and beaming, - And thy step is free and glad, - And thy eyes with joy are gleaming - Surely nothing makes thee sad! - - Thus she chattered to her father, - Shepherd of Judean plain; - Eager for some reason given - Which might satisfy her brain; - But the father, heart o’erflowing - With the story he could tell, - Felt the spirit in him burning— - Felt his soul within him swell— - And, with tender touch, down bending - Gently drew her to his breast; - His life-calling sweetly lending - Skill for what he loved the best. - - Then his home flock, like the other, - In the home fold where they dwelt— - Father, children, precious mother— - All before Jehovah knelt; - Knelt to thank the covenant-keeping - God of Jacob, who alone - In their waking and their sleeping, - Safely shelters all his own. - This—and then began the story - Of the night before that morn, - When the angels came from glory, - Telling that the Christ was born. - - -(_The story._) - - On the hillside near our flocks were sleeping, - While we, reclining by, our watch were keeping; - The sun had set in a glow of splendor, - And the stars looked down so pure and tender - That we felt a hush pervading - Every breast; for the fading - Of the day had been so slow, - And the twilight’s gentle glow - Had left the earth so still - That over plain and hill - A gentle sleep seemed holding all - As quiet as beneath a pall - - Of death. When every heart - Was hushed, and sure to start - At slightest move or sound, - From sky or earth or ground, - We would not break with song - The silence, which so strong - Had reigned supreme the while, - But sought we to beguile - With word of prophecy the hour, - Talking of Him whose conquering power - Our fallen Israel should restore, - And make her glory as of yore. - - The Lord seemed wondrous near us then; - As when our father Jacob dreamed, or when - The great law-giver stood on hallowed ground - And heard Jehovah speak in words profound; - When, suddenly, burst on the ravished ear - A voice like music, or like trumpet clear, - And words most wonderful did there proclaim: - Tidings, glad tidings of the glorious Name! - He bade us haste to Bethlehem away - To find the Babe there born to us this day; - And then, when Paradise I see complete, - May it such strains to these glad ears repeat! - Then as from cloud the pealing thunder breaks - Till ’neath its voice the very mountain shakes, - So burst in chorus the celestial choir, - Each tongue aflame with heaven’s own altar fire, - To celebrate, as by Jehovah sent, - The long foretold and now fulfilled event— - Our own Messiah’s birth in Bethlehem town! - The Christ of God from heaven to earth come down! - The singing ceased, and all was still again - Save the sweet echo of “Good-will to men”; - The choir had flown; our flocks were all at rest, - And could we, after such a vision blest, - - Await the dawning to behold the Stranger - Which cradled lay in Bethlehem’s lowly manger? - If we forgot our flocks, in haste to see the sight - Revealed to us by angel hosts last night, - Was it so strange, when honored thus were we - To be the first of all our race to see, - Worship and welcome to this world the King - Of whom the Prophets old did write and sing? - And so we hastened, sped, and tarried not - Until we found, O, joy! the very spot - Where lay this lily from sweet Paradise, - Angelic beauty there, before our eyes! - - We bent, we worshiped, kissed the Babe so fair, - Then hastened back through all the perfumed air - To find our flocks by angel guards attended, - Better by them than by our skill defended. - Then each with gladness homeward sped away - To tell the tidings of this wondrous day. - The questions asked as round the father’s knee - The children pressed in eager ecstasy, - I will not try to tell. I cease - My story of the “Prince of Peace,” - This only adding—though the talk was long— - There followed it this burst of sacred song: - - -(_The song._) - - O, thou Infant holy! - In thy cradle lowly, - Feeble stranger seeming, - Though almighty. Deeming - It thy pleasure, - Even in this measure, - In this casket fair - Human woe to share. - - We thy praises sing; - To thy cradle bring - Love, and thanks and treasure, - Offerings without measure; - Just now come from glory, - We have heard thy story - Sung by angel chorus, - While God’s light shone o’er us. - - O, thou Baby stranger! - Hiding in a manger, - By crowded inn rejected, - By pilgrims all neglected, - For thee our hearts are burning - With a holy yearning. - Be thou our guest; - Our arms would now enfold thee, - Our hearts would gladly hold thee; - We love thee best. - G. R. ALDEN. - - - - -THE SPOOL-COTTON GIRL. - - -PART I. - -SHE stood before a little old-fashioned twisted-legged toilet stand -putting the finishing touches to her hair, looking, the while, into a -queer little old-fashioned mirror which had been in the family ever -since she could remember. Almost everything had been in their family -a long while. Especially, Marion sometimes thought, her dresses had. -“They do not wear overskirts like this any more,” she had said to her -mother that morning, as she was looping it. - -“They do not wear overskirts at all,” said Renie, the younger sister, -looking up from her book. Renie always knew what “they” did. - -“I know it,” answered Marion, from whose face the slight cloud had -already passed; “but we do, because, you see, it hides the pieced part -of our dress, and the faded part, and various other blemishes. Why -should not there be a what ‘we’ do, as well as to be always quoting -what ‘they’ are about?” - -Her mother laughed somewhat faintly. Marion’s quaint bright speeches -were always restful to her; but the fact was undeniable that the dear -girl’s clothes were old-fashioned and much worn, and the way to secure, -or at least to afford new ones, was hedged. - -You would not have called her pretty had you seen her as she stood -before that little old-fashioned mirror, pushing in the old-fashioned -comb into her knot of hair, and trying to make it hold the hair in the -way the pretty new style fancy pins which the girls wore held theirs; -but you would have liked her face, I think; nearly every one did. It -was quiet and restful looking. She gave very little time to the hair, -for she was late. There was so much to be done mornings that she was -very apt to be late—I mean hurried. They never called her late at -the store; she was always in her place before the great bell ceased -ringing, but it required much bustling about and some running, to -accomplish this. She was only thirteen, and most of the girls in her -class in Sunday-school were students at the High School; but Marion had -been for more than a year earning her own living. She had charge of the -spool-cotton counter in one of the large stores. - -It was a matter of some pride to her that she was a small saleswoman, -instead of a cash girl. She had commenced, of course, in that way; but -one happy day an unexpected vacancy had occurred at the spool counter, -and she had fitted in so well that she had been kept there, although -younger than most of the other salesgirls. Her face was quieter than -usual this morning. Perhaps because it was such a rainy morning that -she had felt compelled to wear the quite old dress, instead of the -somewhat fresher one which had lately begun to come to the store on -pleasant days. Marion had discovered that she needed special grace to -help her through the rainy days and the old-fashioned gown. - -Not very many people were abroad shopping; but Marion had her share -of work, for those who came were in need of such commonplace useful -things as spool cotton, or tape, or needles. She bent carefully over a -drawer full of various colors, holding a tiny brown patch in her hand -the while, trying to match the shade. “No,” she said, shaking her head, -“that is not quite a match, but I am afraid it is the best I can do. -If I were you I would take a shade darker rather than the lighter; my -mother always does.” - -The middle-aged woman, in a plain gossamer which covered her from head -to foot, glanced up at the thoughtful young face and smiled. - -“Does she?” she said. “I like to hear a young girl quote her mother’s -judgment; it is apt to be wise judgment, I have noticed, as I think it -is in this case. Show me darker shades, please.” - -So another drawer was brought, and yet another, and the young head bent -with the older one over them, and tried and tried again, and at last a -satisfactory shade was found and the sale was made. Five cents’ worth -of thread for fifteen minutes’ work! - -“Why in the world did you putter so over that old maid and her patch? -I should have told her I couldn’t match it and sent her about her -business fifteen minutes ago.” - -It was the girl whose stand was next to Marion who offered this bit of -advice, while the “old maid” in question was but a few steps away from -them looking at pin balls. - -Marion turned a warning glance in her direction, and lowered her voice -to answer: “Because I couldn’t find a match sooner. We went over all -the thread drawers on that side, but I think we secured the exact shade -at last.” - -“What does it signify? Nothing but brown cotton. Wasn’t the patch part -cotton? I thought so. The idea of making such an ado over a match for -cheap goods like that! I wouldn’t fuss with such customers, I can tell -you. Five cents’ worth of goods and fifty cents’ worth of bother. You -couldn’t have done more for her if she had been your sister.” - -Marion looked after the plain woman thoughtfully, then looked down at -the tiny pin she wore. “I am not sure but she is. Anyhow, I was bound -to endeavor to please her. I’m an Endeavorer, you know.” She gave the -pin a significant touch as she spoke. It was very small—almost too -small to attract attention—but the letters “C. E.” were, after all, -quite distinct. - -“O, bother!” said her neighbor, speaking contemptuously, “so am I; at -least so far as wearing the pin is concerned. I wear it because it is -pretty, and I have so few ornaments that I have to make the most of -them; but as for putting sentiment into spools of cotton and balls of -tape, I can’t do it; the things don’t match.” - -“They ought to,” Marion said gravely. “If you and I don’t put our -pledges into spools of cotton and balls of tape of what use are they? -Because we spend our days in just such work.” - -“I know it,” with a discontented yawn; “I’m sick and tired of it. It -is a slave life; I’d get out of it if I could. If there was any chance -of getting promoted it would be a little different. Belle Mason has -been transferred to the ribbon counter, and she gets more wages and -sees other sorts of people, and has lots of fun; she hasn’t been in -the house as long as I have, either; it is just because she was put at -a counter where she had a chance of pleasing people, and here we have -just to poke over tape and cotton and pins, and such stuff. I think -it’s mean!” - - PANSY. - -[Illustration: SAYING HER EVENING PRAYER.] - - - - -HELEN’S “APRIL FOOL.” - - -“MAMMA, is an April fool different from any other kind of a fool?” -cried Helen Palmer, rushing into the sitting-room on arriving home from -school. - -“Oh! good-evening, Mrs. Glenn,” she added, as she noticed a lady who -sat sewing with her mother. - -“What does the child mean?” exclaimed Mrs. Glenn, returning Helen’s -nod, then looking her astonishment at Mrs. Palmer, who said: “What do -you mean, Helen?” - -“Why, the girls are all talking to-day about to-morrow being ‘April -Fool Day,’ and they said a lot of things I don’t understand, about -calling people ‘April fool.’ They all agreed to see who could make the -most fools and tell about it Monday. They said I must too, and I didn’t -want to tell them I did not know how to do it, or what it means.” - -“You don’t mean to tell me, Helen Palmer, that you don’t know anything -about April fool?” cried Mrs. Glenn, in surprise. - -“No,” said Mrs. Palmer; “she doesn’t. This is her first year at school, -you know; I have taught her at home, and in our country home she heard -very little but what we told her. I never saw any sense or fun in the -custom of fooling on the first day of April, and did not instruct her -in it when I taught her of Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, St. -Valentine’s Day, Washington’s Birthday, Decoration Day and Fourth of -July.” - -“But what is it?” insisted Helen. - -“Well, my dear, it is a custom which I’ve read has come down hundreds -of years, to send people on ridiculous errands on that day and call it -an April fool. It is done all over Europe, and the Hindoos of India do -exactly the same thing on the thirty-first of March. As I’ve always -known it, people not only send others on foolish errands, but they -often play practical jokes, silly and cruel, and actually lie to each -other to fool them. It is a custom much better forgotten than kept.” - -“I should think so,” cried Helen. - -“But, mamma,” she continued, “what shall I do? The girls expect me to -tell my share on Monday.” - -“We’ll see, dear, by and by. Go and put away your things now.” - -Mrs. Glenn went away after tea, and Helen began at once to coax her -mother to tell her how to come up to the girls’ plans without doing -anything silly or wicked. - -“I think, if I were you, I would spend the day surprising people with -something good. Do things to help or please, and when they show their -surprise say ‘April fool!’” - -“O, mamma! that will be delightful,” cried Helen. “Tell me some things -to do.” - -“No, my dear, that is your business.” - -All that evening Helen was very thoughtful, and next day she was -unusually busy. At night she declared she had never been so happy. -Monday morning she met the girls, and they began to tell their jokes. - -“I fooled everybody around the house,” said Carrie Andrews. “I filled -the sugar-bowl with salt, and papa got a big spoonful in his coffee. -You ought to have seen the face he made. He didn’t more than half like -it, even when I called out ‘April fool!’ I sent George out to pick up -a package of sand I had dropped near the gate. I rang the doorbell and -got Ann to go to the door, and there I stood and said ‘April fool.’ I -sent a letter to Louise, and tied mamma’s apron-strings to her chair.” - -Helen listened in amazement, as one girl after another told of such -silly tricks. - -At last they turned to her. “Well, Helen, what did you do?” - -“Oh! I fooled every one in the family, but I did a lot of new things,” -said Helen. - -“What were they?” cried the girls, in chorus. - -“Well,” said she, in a low voice, “I got up real early, and crept -softly downstairs and set the table in the dining-room, while Jane -was starting breakfast in the kitchen. She ’most always has it set at -night, but mamma and the sewing woman were using the long table to cut -out goods when Jane went to bed. She was hurrying as fast as she could, -and rushed in, and when she saw the table set she threw up both hands, -and said: ‘Well, now, however did that table get set? Was it witches’ -work?’ - -“Then I jumped out from behind the door and cried: ‘April fool!’ - -“‘So it is,’ she said; ‘an’ it’s a fine one you’ve given me; I’ll not -forget it of you.’ - -“After breakfast mamma was just going to get Baby to sleep, and some -one came to see her on business. She asked me to keep him till she -could get back. I took him, and rocked and sung to him, and he went -to sleep. I laid him down in his crib, and then hid to see what mamma -would do. I heard her hurrying upstairs and into the room. Then she -stopped and stared. I stepped up softly behind her and kissed her, and -said, ‘April fool!’ She thought it was a nice one. - -“Uncle Guy came in and asked mamma to mend his glove when she had time. -As quick as I could I got my thimble and needle and silk and mended the -glove; and when he came in again in a hurry and said: ‘Well, I can’t -wait now for it to be mended,’ he drew it on and said, ‘Why, it is -mended.’ Then I called out, ‘April fool, Uncle Guy!’ - -“‘O, you little rogue!’ he said; ‘I’ll pay you up.’ - -“Well, then I mended Frank’s sails to his boat when he started to do it -and papa called him away, and”— - -“What did you do for your father?” asked Marjie Day. - -“Oh! papa said he must hunt up some papers in the library at -lunch-time, so I looked them up and laid them on his plate, and when he -said: ‘Why, how did these get here?’ I said: ‘April fool!’ And that’s -all,” added Helen, with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes. - -“Well!” exclaimed Carrie Andrews, “if that don’t beat the Dutch.” - -“Wasn’t it a good way?” asked Helen, almost crying. - -“Of course, you little goose! but who else would ever have thought of -it?” - -“Mamma said she didn’t like silly jokes, and said I had better try -surprising people with pleasant things. I like it so well I am going to -do it every day in the year.” - -“There’s the bell,” cried Belle Adams; “but hadn’t we all better try -it?” - - F. A. REYNOLDS. - - - - -ABOUT PHILADELPHIA. - -BY THE PANSIES. - - -ITS first name was Coaquenaque. I am glad they changed it to -Philadelphia, because it is easier to pronounce; but I like Indian -names. I went to Philadelphia once with my uncle. I think Broad Street -is one of the nicest places in the world. I went to Germantown to see -where Charlie Ross used to live, but I was so small I don’t remember -very much about anything, only Broad Street. I’m going again next year, -and I’ll look around and write you what I see. - - JOHN T. ROBINSON. - - * * * * * - -I WENT with father to Philadelphia three years ago; we staid near -Washington Square; it is beautiful there. The trees are just splendid. -Father told me it used to be a great burying-ground. I could not make -it seem possible. A great many unknown soldiers, father said, were -buried there; it was in Revolutionary times. How sad it must have been -to live then! I like the little parks in Philadelphia that they call -“squares.” I saw the place where they held the Sanitary Fair, when they -roofed over the entire square, and let the trees stand as pillars. - - LAURA CREEDMORE. - - * * * * * - -ONE of the most interesting places I visited in Philadelphia was Mr. -Wanamaker’s store. I did not know a store could be so large. It takes a -hundred miles of steam pipes to heat it. - -[Illustration: FRANKLIN STATUE.] - -My uncle has a fruit farm of ten acres, and I used to think when I -walked around it that ten acres was pretty big; but there are over -fourteen acres of floor to walk around in Mr. Wanamaker’s store! The -different departments are fixed up beautifully. They have lovely -parlors and dining-rooms and bedrooms all rigged up with beautiful -furniture, to show people how to furnish their rooms, and every few -days they change and give you another style. But the most interesting -part of the store, to me, was the way the money is sent to the -cashiers. There are eighty-one pay-stations in the store; then there -is a central cash desk where twenty-five cashiers are busy all day -long receiving the money that is brought to them through the tubes. -The clerk at a pay-station takes the money you give him, and starts it -in one of the pneumatic tubes, and away it shoots to the central desk -on the second floor; a cashier there looks at it, sees what change is -needed, and shoots it back. I don’t understand it very well, but I mean -to. I am going to study the principles of pneumatic tubing, and Chris -and I are going to have one to reach from my window to his. We are only -about fifty feet apart. In Wanamaker’s they have seven miles of tubing -to carry their money around. We took dinner at the Wanamaker Dairy, -right in the store; it was jam full, and it will seat eight hundred -people at once. Chris and I are going into partnership when we get to -be men, and are going to have a store just exactly like it. - - HENRY W. GILMORE. - - * * * * * - -I WENT to Philadelphia last winter and attended Mr. Conwell’s church -on Broad Street. It is very big—the biggest in the world, I guess—or -maybe I mean in this country. It will hold thousands of people. Mother -says she thinks Dr. Talmage’s church is bigger, but I don’t see how it -could be. The people can’t all get in; they have to have tickets and be -let in by a door-keeper. The singing sounds just grand. There is a very -large choir, and the organ rolls and rolls. I liked Mr. Conwell almost -better than any minister I ever heard, except my own, of course. Then I -went to Sunday-school; hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of children! -I never saw so many together before. Of course I saw other things in -Philadelphia, but what I liked the best was that church. It seemed so -funny to see folks crowding into church on Sunday morning, and to have -a big overflow meeting for those who couldn’t get in. Where I live they -have to coax the people to come to church, and there’s lots of room -always. - - FANNY PIERCE. - - * * * * * - -ONCE I went to “Old Swede’s” Church in Philadelphia. It is very old. -There used to be a log church on the place where it stands; sometimes -it was used for a fort. That was in 1677, but about three years -afterwards the brick church was built, and that is the one I went to. -In the churchyard are many very old graves, and some new ones. Some -of the names on the grave-stones are so old I could not make them -out. It seemed very strange to be in a church which was built almost -two hundred years ago. Then we went to the queer little old house on -Letitia Street where William Penn used to live. Great big buildings -have grown up around it, and they make it look very odd. Then we went -to the old London Coffee House; I had studied about that in my history, -and I was disgusted to find it turned into a cigar store. It is a very -queer old building. I saw the house where the first American flag was -made; that is on Arch Street. - - HELEN STUART CAMPBELL. - -[Illustration: VIEW OF INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA. (_See “About -Philadelphia.”_)] - - * * * * * - -MY sister Helen has written all about old places and never mentioned -Carpenter’s Hall! She says that is because she knew I would. I went -there with father and Helen. I think it is one of the grandest places -in Philadelphia. It is the “Cradle of American Independence.” That -was where the first prayer in Congress was made the morning after -Boston was bombarded. Before that some of the people had objected to -having Congress opened with prayer, but after that morning nobody ever -objected again. The inscription on the wall says it was here that -“Henry, Hancock and Adams inspired the Delegates of the Colonies with -Nerve and Sinew for the toils of war.” - -Then of course we went to Independence Hall, where the second -Continental Congress gathered, and saw the old cracked bell which rung -on the first Fourth of July. Helen says there was a Fourth of July -every year before that time; but I mean the first one which was worth -having. - - ROBERT STUART CAMPBELL. - - * * * * * - -I THINK the prettiest place in all Philadelphia is Fairmount Park. -If I lived there I should want to stay in the park all summer. The -drive out is just as lovely as it can be. We crossed the Girard Avenue -bridge, which is a thousand feet long. You can walk or ride across, -just as you please. There is a sidewalk on each side of the carriage -drive sixteen feet wide, and beautifully paved. The railing around this -bridge is trimmed with flowers, vines and birds, made in bronze. We saw -the old house which was built by William Penn’s son. And we went to the -Zoölogical Gardens and saw the bear-pits and everything; then there is -a part called the “Children’s Playground,” which is lovely. - - JAMES HURST. - - [The above are some of the gleanings from the many - letters received. Wish we had room for more. We are - greatly pleased with your efforts to help on this - department of THE PANSY. The main difficulty is, that - many letters come too late to be of use. Notice the - list of cities published in the December PANSY, and - make a start three months ahead, then you will be sure - to be on time.—EDITORS.] - - - - -THE SPOOL-COTTON GIRL. - - -PART II. - -“WHAT did you say?” This last sentence was addressed to a customer who -had been standing for some seconds. “Green braid? No, we haven’t any to -match that.” - -“Are you sure?” questioned the young girl anxiously. “Haven’t you a -little darker, then? that will do.” - -[Illustration: THE LIBERTY BELL.] - -“No, we haven’t!” sharp-voiced and spiteful. - -“Saucy thing!” she added, as the girl turned away; “I told her I -hadn’t; what business had she to ask again?” - -“O, Nellie! I don’t think you are sure. I think I found some in your -upper row of boxes yesterday which would answer for the sample.” - -“Nonsense! as if you could tell without looking. I know I haven’t; I -tumbled the whole lot over yesterday for a fussy woman, and I remember -every shade in it. It is of no consequence, anyhow; a seven-cent braid! - -“O, Jean! look here; let me see your photographs. Are they good?” - -She had darted away to the counter below. - -Marion stood for a moment irresolute, then moved toward the girl. “Let -me see it, please; I think I can match it.” - -The woman to whom she had sold a spool of thread turned at the sound -of her voice and smiled on the girl. “Give it to her, Jennie, she will -match it; she knows how,” she said. Marion answered the smile; her -heart was warm over the simple words of commendation. She sought among -the upper row of boxes for the one which her memory associated with -yesterday’s shades, and found it. The girl made her seven-cent purchase -and went away pleased, just as Nellie came back from her photographs. - -“Such a stupid day!” she yawned toward its close. “Not a person of -importance has even passed our counter. I’ve sold about a dollar’s -worth of goods to-day. How much have you done?” - -“Hardly that,” said Marion, smiling. “It has all been spools of cotton -and darning needles. It has rained, you know, all day.” - -The next morning’s sun shone brightly, and the large store was thronged -early in the day with shoppers. Both Marion and Nellie were busy, the -latter not much pleasanter than she had been the day before; it all -seemed such trivial work to her. - -“Are you sure you are not mistaken in the name?” one of the chiefs was -saying, in a perplexed tone, to a lady who stood near Marion’s counter. -“We have but one clerk of that name, and she is the youngest in the -store.” - -“This one is quite young, and she sells spool cotton,” said the lady, -catching Marion’s eye and smiling a recognition. She had laid aside the -long gossamer, and was carefully dressed. “I have a fancy to be waited -on by her.” - -“Marion,” said the chief, turning to her, “this lady wants to look at -the light trimming silks; do you know anything about them?” - -“Yes, sir,” said Marion promptly; “I know the shades and prices.” - -“I thought so,” the lady said, and Marion moved down the archway at her -side. - -“I have a fancy that you can match silks,” the lady said; “at least I -think you will patiently try. A girl who could do her best on a rainy -day for a spool of cotton, can be depended upon for silk, I believe.” - -From the silk department they went to the glove counter, and from there -to the millinery, in each of which departments the young girl with -wide-open eyes and deft fingers and careful taste gave satisfaction. -“You ought to be in this room,” said the head milliner, smiling on her -as she saw her select the right shade of velvet. “Where do you belong?” -She laughed when told, and said that the spool-cotton department was -fortunate. - -“That Marion Wilkes,” said the chief on Saturday evening, “what about -her?” The clerk told briefly what he knew about her. - -“Promote her,” said the chief briefly. “Keep watch of her; if she -succeeds in other departments as well, keep pushing her. She has been -worth several hundred dollars to us this week. Miss Lamson told me -she had expected to buy her niece’s outfit over at Breck’s, but was -attracted here by that little girl selling her a spool of cotton on a -rainy day. And Jennie Packard brought her mother here for the winter -supplies for their family, because that girl matched a dress braid; in -fact, I have heard half a dozen stories of the kind about her. She is -valuable; we cannot spare her for spool cotton.” - -It was four years ago that this true story happened. Last Saturday, -as I stood near the spool counter in the fashionable store, I heard a -voice ask: “And what has become of Marion Wilkes? She used to be here -next to you, didn’t she, Nellie?” - -“Why, yes, she was the spool-cotton girl; but she didn’t stay here -long; she got to be a favorite with the proprietors somehow. I never -understood it. She was a sly little thing; they promoted her all the -while; you never saw anything like it. She gets the largest salary of -any saleswoman in the store now, and I heard last week that they were -going to put her at the head of the art department. That’s just the way -with some people, always in luck. Here I have been at this tape and -braid counter for years, and expect to be until my eyes are too dim to -pick out the stupid things. I told you I had no tape of that width; -what is the use in asking again?” This last sentence was addressed to a -little girl who was waiting to be served. - - PANSY. - - - - -THE SPOILED FACE. - -(_Character Studies._) - - -“ISN’T he lovely?” asked Miss Henderson, as we three stood in front of -Charlie’s portrait, which had just come from the artist’s hand. “He has -such great expressive eyes, so soft, and yet so full of intelligence. -The artist has caught the very expression. I think I never saw a more -beautiful boy.” - -“I think I never saw a greater nuisance,” said Miss Maylie, speaking -with a good deal of energy and with a slight frown on her face, as -though some unpleasant memory was stirred by the sight of the lovely -face in the frame. We both turned and looked at her in surprise. - -“Nuisance!” repeated Miss Henderson. “Why, what can you mean? I have -heard that his character is as lovely as his face. He is one of the -most generous little fellows, always dividing his goodies with the -children.” - -“Oh! I don’t doubt it,” said Miss Maylie; “but there are other traits -in children to be sought after besides that of dividing their goodies.” -Then she laughed, as if half-ashamed of the warmth of her manner, -and said: “I’ve been a recent victim to one of his habits, and feel -somewhat deeply, perhaps. I had an important engagement with his mother -yesterday—a business matter for which I had asked an interview—and -told her I was pressed for time, and had but a half-hour. I suppose we -had been together about two minutes when the door opened without the -ceremony of a knock, and Charlie appeared to ask if he might go over to -Uncle Harry’s. He was told that he could not, it looked too much like -rain; and he argued the matter, assuring his mother that the wind had -changed and was blowing from the west; that the cook said it was not -going to rain any more; that he would put on his rubbers and bundle up, -and I don’t know what else. He was listened to patiently by his mother, -and impatiently by me, for my precious half-hour was slipping away. He -shut the door at last with a frown on his face which, if it had been -painted, would have made this picture much less beautiful, but I am -afraid more natural. - -“It was certainly not five minutes before he was back, and this time it -was, ‘Mamma, may I call Jerry to bring in the kittens?’ - -“‘O, no, dear! not this afternoon; you are dressed for dinner, you -know.’ - -“‘That won’t make any difference; I won’t soil my clothes. The kittens -haven’t been out in the mud. Do, mamma, let me.’ - -“‘No, Charlie; I do not want them in the parlor, you know.’ - -“‘Then I’ll go to the kitchen and play with them; Jane won’t care.’ - -“‘Yes, Jane cares very much; the kittens annoy her. Charlie will have -to get along without them this afternoon.’ - -“Another slam to the door, with the scowl deepened. But we were by -no means to be left in peace. I was just in the midst of the most -intricate part of my business explanation, when Charlie arrived again. -Now he was hungry; could not wait another minute, and wanted some -bread and butter and syrup, and a piece of cake and a glass of milk. -It was carefully explained to him that dinner would be served within -the hour, and that syrup was not good for him, the doctor said—to which -he replied that he did not care what the old doctor said—and that cake -would be given him at the table when it was passed to the others. -To each of these explanations he returned an answer which had to be -answered, and when all was settled, he began over again to coax for -something to eat! The fourth time he came he wanted the gas lighted -in the library, and the fifth he wanted a certain great book which he -could not lift placed conveniently for him to look at the pictures. -When at last even his mother felt the strain on her patience and told -him he must run away and not interrupt her again, he burst into a loud -howl, and slammed the door after him so that my nerves all shivered at -the jar. - -“I must say it would be difficult for me to admire his face to-day; my -annoyances are too recent. Seven times during a single half-hour to be -interrupted by a little boy, when you are trying to transact important -business with his mother, has spoiled his face for me. If he had -wanted one single thing which it was important to have at that moment, -it would have made a difference.” - -“They all seemed important to him, I suppose,” said gentle Miss -Henderson, who always tried to apologize for everybody. - -“Yes, they did,” said Miss Maylie; “that is just the trouble; he -evidently considered himself a very important person, and thought that -his mother should leave her business and her caller and attend to him. -I should call him a spoiled child.” - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - -[Illustration: CHARLIE’S PORTRAIT.] - - - - -MY LITTLE MAID. - - -THIS is my little maid, Eva ——, though that is not her Chinese name. -She will be a woman one of these bright days, and who knows but she may -become a real princess or empress of great China? - -“What of that?” - -[Illustration: EVA.] - -Much every way, if she now loves the Lord Jesus, and grows up a noble -Christian woman. Can’t you see how she could help the Gospel among her -people if she had the great power of an empress? I hope you remember -how the good Queen of Madagascar led her nation to give up idolatry -and choose the Bible. And now they are doing things so cruel to their -neighbors who have become Christians we wish our little Eva were the -grand good empress to stop these wicked Chinese doings. - - L. - - * * * * * - - THINK well over your important steps in life; having - made up your mind never look behind. - - - - -SACRED ANIMALS. - - -SOME nations think certain animals sacred; that is, they are so much -better than other animals that they must not be harmed; of course they -must not be killed. If they can they treat them almost as if they were -human beings, dressing them up nicely, even richly. Just think of one -of our bull-dogs dressed and fed and housed almost as well as a king! - -“Why do certain tribes of Africa almost worship the Lion of Lhiamba?” - -Perhaps because he is so strong and wise and terrible. He seems like a -very god to them, they fear him so. - -“Now maybe,” they say to themselves, “if we respect this great, fierce -beast, never lifting a hand to harm him, maybe he will not harm us.” - -“Does he ever harm them?” - -Always, if they cross his path when he is hungry. - -“Are there any other sacred animals?” - -Yes; the bull, the white elephant, the monkey, even the serpent, and -how many more it is hard to say. - -Maybe you can guess which is sacred to the Egyptians, Chinese, etc. - -We should not needlessly harm any animal. Shooting birds for mere fun -is wrong. Animals have a hard time in this world. Let us not make it -harder. But we must worship God only. - -They are mere creatures, passing away after a short stay here; God -lives forever. “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.” - - L. - - * * * * * - - EACH one of us is bound to make the little circle - in which he lives better and happier; each of us is - bound to see that out of that small circle the widest - good may flow; each of us may have fixed in his mind - the thought that out of a single household may flow - influences that shall stimulate the whole commonwealth - and the whole civilized world.—_Selected._ - -[Illustration: THE LION OF LHIAMBA.] - - - - -SADIE’S “HEATHEN.” - - -NOBODY knew or even dreamed how large a thought was puzzling the brains -of little Sadie Wilmot. It had begun at family worship that morning. -Or no; perhaps it began back of that, at the meeting of “Cheerful -Givers,” on Thursday. Mr. Wilmot said it was an absurd idea for such -little dots as Sadie to be going to missionary meeting, but grandmamma -quoted to him: “As the twig is bent, the tree is inclined,” and herself -dressed Sadie for the gathering. Then Miss Harlowe, the leader, had -told a story about a little heathen boy who prayed to an ugly little -wooden image, with a hideous face; she showed a model of the little -heathen’s god, and Sadie was shocked and distressed. She thought -about the heathen a good deal that day. Now, this Saturday morning -grandfather, at family worship, had read a Psalm. Sadie had not been -listening very closely; in fact, it was hard for her to listen to Bible -reading, some way, unless it had a story in it. This was not in the -least like a story, and Sadie’s thoughts were, if the truth must be -told, upon her dollie’s new hat and how she should make it, when she -heard these words: “Ask of me, and I will give thee the heathen for -thine inheritance.” It was that word “heathen” which caught her ear. -Who was talking? To whom were the heathen to be given? Had some naughty -king given them away to a bad man, and was that why they prayed to ugly -wooden dollies? Sadie’s thoughts were in a turmoil; she could hardly -wait until the prayer was over, before she was at grandpapa’s knee -questioning. - -“Why, child,” said grandpapa, with a puzzled air, for he was not used -to explaining the Bible to little people, “it means what it says; the -heathen are to be given to Jesus.” - -“Given to Jesus!” said Sadie, amazed, “then why do they pray to ugly -wooden dollies?” - -“Because He hasn’t got them yet; they don’t know they belong to him.” - -“Why doesn’t somebody tell them?” - -“They do. People are at work telling them. Did you never hear about the -missionaries, child? I thought you belonged to a Mission Band?” - -Of course she did, and had heard about missionaries, and assured her -grandfather that she gave five cents a month to support them. He did -not say that that was a larger sum than he gave regularly for the same -purpose; for some reason he did not care to do so; he only said: - -“Very well, then, you understand all about it. The Bible says the -heathen will be given to Jesus, and the missionaries have gone over -there to tell them about it, and show them how to serve the Lord.” - -“Has every single one of them heard it?” questioned Sadie, in great -earnestness. - -“Well, no,” said grandfather; “I believe they haven’t yet.” - -“Why don’t they do it faster? Why don’t lots more missionaries go, and -take Bibles, and hurry? Because maybe some of them will die before they -hear it.” - -Sadie was in intense earnest, but her father laughed, and said: “That’s -the question, father. Puts some of you Christians in a tight place, -doesn’t it?” - -Sadie could not imagine what he meant; her grandfather sat at ease in -his big leather-covered chair, and was not in a tight place at all. -But she was disappointed at his telling her to run away and not ask -any more questions for five minutes. If she only had a mamma, Sadie -thought, she would ask her all the questions she pleased, for her -friend Trudie Brown said that mammas never got tired of answering. But -Sadie’s mamma went to heaven when she was a wee baby. - -She went away to think it over, as she had to do with so many of -her puzzles, only to have it added to presently by words from her -grandmother. - -“I declare!” said that good woman, coming in from the back yard, where -she had been talking to Tony, the errand-boy, “that boy is a perfect -heathen.” - -Sadie nearly dropped her dollie with a china head on the floor, in her -dismay. “Is he truly, Grandma?” she asked. - -“Yes, he is,” said grandmamma, with emphasis; “I don’t believe there is -a greater heathen in the depths of Africa than Tony. I have been trying -to explain the simplest matter to him, and he does not understand me as -well as a child of three ought to.” - -“How should he?” asked grandfather, to whom this sentence was chiefly -addressed; “he has never had any chance to learn. The whole settlement -over there where he came from live like heathen, and know no better.” - -Then came one of Sadie’s startling questions: “Grandfather, is he one -of those who were given to Jesus?” - -[Illustration: THINKING IT OVER.] - -“What?” asked grandfather, in astonishment. He had already forgotten -the morning’s questions. - -“Why, isn’t he one that you read about, out of the Bible, that was -given to Jesus?” - -“Oh!” said grandfather, “I suppose so; why, yes, child, certainly. -Jesus came to save him, as well as other heathen.” - -“Does he know it?” - -“What a child you are!” said grandmother; but as this was no answer -Sadie waited, looking at her grandfather. - -“I doubt if he does,” he said at last, “or would understand if he was -told.” - -“Why, then he ought to be told over and over, ever so many times, as -you said you had to do with Bruce before he understood that he was to -stand on his hind feet and ask for a bone, oughtn’t he?” - -Both grandfather and grandmother began to laugh, though Sadie had no -knowledge of what there was to laugh about; she was often treated in -this way, and did not understand it. She turned away with a dignified -air, a trifle hurt that her logic should produce only laughter; but -there was decision as well as dignity in the tone in which she said: “I -mean to tell him.” - -That was the beginning of effort for Tony Black, as he was called for -convenience, though his full name was Antony Blackwell. - -Faithfully did Sadie pour information on him and ply him with questions -until, from staring and being stupidly amused, and then half-vexed with -her, he at last became interested, and listened and asked questions -himself, and began to think. “Sadie’s heathen,” he was familiarly -called by certain amused friends, who were told the story. - -He was called so long after the name had ceased to fit him; for this -is a true story of something which happened years ago. The years went -by, and Tony Black became so utterly changed that people forgot that -they had ever called him heathen, or even Tony. “Young Blackwell” -was the name by which he began to be known; then, after a time, -“Mr. Blackwell.” And one evening, when there was a great meeting in -one of the largest churches of a certain city, he was introduced as -“The Rev. Mr. Blackwell, who is under appointment to go to Africa -as a missionary.” Who do you think went with him? Sadie herself! He -told on the platform something of his story; of the time when he was -called “Sadie’s heathen,” and of his joy and pride in having the name -altered, until now, by her friends, he was called “Sadie’s minister.” -But by mere acquaintances they were spoken of as Rev. and Mrs. Antony -Blackwell. - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - - - - -QUEER CREATURES. - - -THIS is a scene in Africa. Those queer creatures scampering up the -tree, are monkeys, to be sure; the other big lizards are crocodiles, -you see. The way of it was that one of the crocodiles was sleeping—or -pretending to sleep—on the bank of the river, when along came a -careless little monkey, and his eyes were not where they should have -been, or they did not look sharply at this thing that seemed to be but -a log; when, before he knew what he was about, this “log” opened his -big mouth, and with a sudden flap of his tail, in went the thoughtless -monkey. That was the end of that young monkey. That’s about the way the -saloons swallow folks. Don’t go near them! - -“But tell the rest. What did the mother monkey say?” - -She was mad as—“a setting hen.” She shouted at the top of her voice, -and a great army of monkeys came galloping to her to know what was the -matter. Now one monkey knows just how to tell the others what’s the -matter; so they all set up such a hue and cry as you never heard. They -scolded and insulted the crocodile, and twitched their faces and shook -their fists at him, and jabbered such a bedlam that all the crocodiles -ran together to see what was to pay. Upon the bank out of the water -they climbed, and with open mouths and loud hisses, hurried after the -scampering monkeys; but those spry creatures bounded up that big high -tree, and from the lofty limbs looked down and scolded with all their -might and main, and again shook their fists and snapped their long -finger-nails to show how they would tear every hair out of the crock’s -hide if they could get a chance—if there were any hair. - -It would have been better if they all, monks and crocks, had come -kindly together and asked one another’s pardon and settled their -differences, and signed a pledge never to eat or scold one another any -more. Read this: - - “We had a grand temperance rally here last night. - The children marched around the neighborhood, before - the meeting, with banner and song. The church was - beautifully decorated with vines, branches of - palm-trees, maidenhair ferns, calla lilies, white - orchid blossoms, etc. The place was filled. . . . There - were songs, dialogues, temperance catechism, temperance - stories and speeches. Over twenty came forward and - took the blue ribbon. One had been a ‘hard case.’ - Among the natives pledging is almost equal to coming - to Christ. . . . Every day began with a sunrise prayer - meeting. A chorus of young people, the girls dressed in - white, occupied the platform. They enjoy music.” - -[Illustration: SCAMPERING UP THE TREE.] - -So writes Rev. Mr. Dorward of Umzumbe, Africa. You see there is a -difference between the young folks of Africa and the monks and crocks. -What is the difference? And which of the two meetings do you prefer? - - L. - - - - -THE HARD TEXT. - -(_Matt._ xiii. 57.) - - -YOU would think people would be proud of a neighbor who does well. -They are often jealous of him. When he becomes very great they often -are all the more jealous, and say hard things about him, and he must -sometimes actually get away to get peace and respect. When Columbus -told his neighbors he was sure he could get to the East Indies by -sailing westward they laughed him to scorn. He asked his own nation for -ships and men to sail away on a voyage of discovery. He got nothing but -opposition. He was compelled to go away to Spain for honor and ships. - -Jesus’ neighbors ought to have been proud of him; but they drove him -away. They tried even to kill him, so jealous were they of him. But he -got honor elsewhere. So it usually is. Do you honor him or drive him -away? - - L. - - - - -WHAT HE COULD DO. - - -I READ not long ago of a little fellow who was employed in a Boston -office as errand boy. Four young men had the office together, and liked -to spend their leisure moments in teasing the boy, who was very small -for his years. - -One day, after they had been chatting together, and using many oaths, -with which they were in the habit of mixing their conversation, one -of them turned to the boy and said: “Dick, what do you expect to do -for a living, anyhow? You can’t be a business man; there is no sort of -business that you can do; you are too small. The fact is you’ll be a -dwarf, and I don’t see how you are to get your living.” - -Said Dick, “I can do something now which you four gentlemen can’t do.” - -“You can, eh? What in the world is that?” - -“I can keep from swearing,” said the boy, in a firm, clear voice. - -One of the young men laughed, another whistled, and all turned and -walked away, leaving Dick master of the situation. - - - - -EASTER. - - - LONG nights she wept! - Sad days and weary weeks went by, - And life resumed its routine mournfully; - The tasks that once were easy to perform - Did seem vast mountains to the strength so worn; - And if the sun did shine, or if it not, - In shadow’s dwelt her heart; no ray, no spot - Of light or hope did penetrate the gloom— - This life seemed sadder far than death or tomb. - - And still she wept! - ’Till to her tear-washed eyes there came, - Like “bow of promise” after summer rain, - A vision beauteous from that “other land”— - Sleep and a “maiden” walking hand in hand. - They passed among those homes of “silent dead,” - They found “her darling’s grave,” the “name” they read, - Then, bending on her soulful, tender eyes, - The “maiden” whispered: “Did our dear Lord rise? - Then wherefore fall these teardrops from thine eyes? - If ‘Christ is risen indeed,’ then shall not we, - His ‘friends,’ his ‘heirs,’ live through eternity? - - “Why should the Christians fear, who thus believe? - Why will they not the ‘Comforter’ receive? - I come each year to raise the drooping head, - To whisper to the mourner, Is Christ dead, - That you so mourn your loved? Look upward, sing! - Behold yon butterfly on gorgeous wing! - Know that this grave is but the chrysalis— - Then light, and glory, where the Saviour is; - And ‘where I am, there ye shall also be’; - ‘Come, weary, heavy laden, come to me!’” - - The vision fled, - But to her heart there softly came - Abiding faith in Jesus’ precious name; - A joy, that all her sorrow she could rest - Upon her Saviour’s sympathizing breast, - And, in the place of gloom and fear, was born - A perfect trust—on that fair Easter morn. - —_Exchange._ - -[Illustration: HAVE A BITE?] - -[Illustration: SHALL I BITE OFF THIS BUTTON?] - - - - -QUEEN ELIZABETH. - - -ABOUT three hundred years ago England’s great queen died. She was not -very beautiful. Some said this was a great trial to her, and that she -took marvelous pains to “fix” herself up to look as well as any lady -in the land. Fine feathers often make pretty birds, but all Queen -Bess’ efforts failed to make her handsome. However, as she had royal -power she had many admirers. They called her “charming,” “lovely,” -“lily,” “rose,” and such other words to flatter her. She liked it, -and persuaded herself that after all her features and complexion were -nearly exquisite. - -However that be she had not a few offers of marriage. But none suited -her, or may be she, as a queen, did not want to be bothered with a -husband, who would be continually interfering in the government. - -It is sad to think of some things this woman did. Of course you will -read about it. Sometimes she would have outbursts of anger so great -that she would actually box the ears of those around her, no matter how -distinguished they were. - -The great stain upon her character was her treatment of Mary, Queen of -Scots, her own relative. Mary was imprisoned eighteen years, then put -to death on charge of conspiracy. - -But England arose to extraordinary prosperity under the long reign of -“Queen Bess.” There were great scholars in her day, and she encouraged -all sorts of improvements. You Pansy girls must some day dress your P. -S. President up in the Elizabethan style and say if you would like it -nowadays. - - L. - - * * * * * - -(_Sent with the gift of a Canary Bird in Cage._) - - IN memory of the birdlings fair - Who from your nest have flown, - To try in Heaven’s serener air - The wings earth could not own. - M. S. B. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -ELSIE’S PLAN.—I. - -(_Something for Mamma._) - - -THE thought grew in Elsie’s mind, nourished by three remarks made by -her mother and sisters. They were all at work except Irma, who was -trying to teach Leoline to jump gracefully from her shoulder, instead -of giving such a rude bound. Leoline was the cat. Irma was not apt to -be at work, if the truth must be told; she was the only one of the -little household who did not seem to understand the need for being -industrious. She was two years older than Elsie, but the grown-up -sisters often said of her that Elsie was at least three years ahead -of Irma in judgment. I have sometimes thought if they had said in -conscientiousness it would have been nearer the truth. - -At this particular time, while Irma struggled with the cat’s education, -Elsie took neat stitches in the apron she was mending, her face looking -thoughtful the while. Margaret, the oldest sister, was sewing swiftly -on a dress of Irma’s, setting in new sleeves, and in other ways trying -to make the half-worn garment look like a new one. Nannie came in, -dustpan in hand, and with a handkerchief bound about her hair to -protect it from the dust, just as her mother opened the door of the -kitchen, with her hands filled with soiled napkins and towels. - -“Mother, where can I put that roll of matting?” Nannie asked, a touch -of irritation in her voice; “I have reached the end of my resources in -tucking things away. If I ever do build a house I will have all the -closets I want; good-sized ones, too—and if there is any space left for -rooms, there may be a few tucked in; but the closets I will have.” - -Mrs. Harding sighed. “Closets are certainly very scarce in this house,” -she said wearily, “as well as many other things. I don’t know what to -do with the soiled clothes; we need a clothes hamper very much. There -is a corner in the upper back hall where one might stand, if we had -it.” The sentence ended as it had begun, with a little sigh. - -Irma echoed the sigh in a sort of groan. “I saw such a pretty one, -mother, last night, at Turner’s. It was only two dollars; I thought of -you when I saw them unpacking it. And to think that we cannot afford -even two dollars for a basket!” - -“There are worse trials in life than even that, I suspect,” said -Nannie, darting an angry glance at Irma, as she saw the flush spread -and deepen over her mother’s face. Margaret made haste to change the -subject. - -“We each have our perplexities, it seems,” she said, with a light -laugh; “mine has to do with dress. I don’t know what to do with that -light sateen of mine; it is too gay to wear about the house at work, -even if it were long enough, which it isn’t. It is not worth giving -away, it is too good to throw into the rag bag, and there isn’t room -for it in my closet. Now what is to be done in such a case?” - -Then Elsie spoke for the first time, eagerly, a bright look flashing -over her face, as though some perplexity had just then been -delightfully solved. “O, Margaret! will you give the dress to me to do -just what I please with?” - -“To you, child! what can you do with it? It isn’t just the thing for a -dollie, I should say.” - -“No,” said Irma scornfully, “I should think not. Do let us have our -dolls dressed in good taste and decent style, even if we cannot afford -anything for ourselves.” - -“I don’t want it for my doll, Margaret. I have a plan, a real nice one, -if you will let me have the dress, and if mother will give me the -matting Nannie cannot find a place for. Will you, mother? There is only -a little of it left.” - -“Is it the yellow plaid, Nannie? Why, yes, dear, if there is any -pleasure to be gotten out of that yard and a half of cheap matting, by -all means use it; especially since there is no place to store it.” - -Then Mrs. Harding left the room, giving Nannie a chance to say what she -was longing to. - -“I never saw such a girl as you are, Irma; you omit no opportunity -to remind mother of our poverty. Even so trivial a thing as a soiled -clothes hamper must draw from you a woe-begone sigh. Why can’t you -remember that it is hard enough for mother, at the best, without trying -to keep the thought of our troubles ever before her?” - -“Why, dear me!” said Irma, “what did I say? Mother knew before I spoke -of it that we could not afford even two dollars to buy a clothes -hamper. I don’t think she is very likely to forget that we have lost -our money.” - -“Not if you are around,” answered Nannie angrily. “I think you are a -selfish girl; you do nothing but groan and regret, for your share. -Well, I can’t help it,” she added, in answer to Margaret’s warning -look; “that child’s selfish frettings do try me so!” - -“We must not expect old heads on young shoulders, remember,” Margaret -said gently, as Irma put Leoline down with a decided bounce, and -slammed the door the least bit after her, as she left the room. - -“It is the contrast that makes one notice it so,” answered Nannie, with -a significant nod of her head toward Elsie. But Elsie neither heard the -words, nor saw the nod; her mind was busy elsewhere. - -“O, Margaret!” she said eagerly, “I have the loveliest plan. You -know to-morrow will be mother’s birthday, and I was all the evening -wondering what I could give her; now I know. Nannie, I will take the -matting out of your way. I mean to make a clothes hamper for mother out -of that and Margaret’s dress.” - -Nannie laughed outright, and even Margaret smiled as she said: “Why, -dear child, how can you? I am afraid that is a very large undertaking.” - -“No,” said Elsie positively; “I see just how I can do it. The plan -flashed into my mind as soon as you and Nannie began to talk about the -two things in the way. I almost know I can do it. If you will help to -keep mother away from our room this afternoon, and she won’t give me -anything special to do, I can make it and have it ready for to-morrow -morning. I know just how to go to work.” - -“Let her try it,” said Nannie, with a wise nod of her head. “The child -will make something; I never knew her to fail when she had undertaken -to do a thing, and mother’s birthday ought to be noticed in some -way, even though we cannot do as we used. I’m going to fix over her -sewing-chair; I believe in useful presents myself. We will agree to -keep mother in order, Elsie, and the sooner the matting disappears from -the front hall the better.” - -So the little room occupied by the two younger girls was locked all the -afternoon, while Elsie worked steadily, and Irma lounged on the bed -with a book, encouraging her sister occasionally with: “You never can -do it in the world, Elsie Harding! I don’t see any sense in trying. For -my part I would rather give her no present than a bungling thing like -that. You can’t sew matting decently; it ravels so.” - - PANSY. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: AN OLD-TIME MAY-DAY.] - -[Illustration: THE CUSTOM HOUSE, NEW YORK.] - - - - -ABOUT NEW YORK. - -BY THE PANSIES. - - -[Illustration: COOPER INSTITUTE.] - -I READ about it when it was called New Amsterdam. A thousand people, -and it was just a straggling little town. Pearl Street they called “De -Perel Straat.” The folks were very proud of this street; there were -forty-three houses on it! One man thought his fortune was made because -he had bought a lot two years before for fifty dollars, and was offered -two hundred and fifty for it. And the lot was thirty feet wide and over -a hundred feet deep! Think of a New York man to-day buying a lot of -that size for two hundred and fifty dollars! My father says it would -take a fortune to buy such a lot. - - HENRY STUART. - - * * * * * - -MY cousin and I had great fun reading about a family who took a long -journey from New York to Albany. They went on a river steamer; started -at daylight and reached Albany at sunset, and thought they had done -a big thing. There were no railroads to ride on; not a single train -going out of New York City! That was in 1827. It seems strange that -such wonderful things can take place in one century. I think this is -the grandest century we ever had. - - ROBERT CAMPBELL. - - * * * * * - -I SPENT a week in New York, and boarded very near Madison Square. I -was on Twenty-third Street, pretty near to Fifth Avenue, and Broadway -streaks across the city right there, so I had a chance to see almost -everything; because those who know anything about New York City know -that if you see what is on those streets, why, you have seen a good -deal. It is Broadway and Fifth Avenue going criss-cross that make -Madison Square. There are lots of hotels around there. The park is just -magnificent; I like it better than Central Park, because it is right -there, you know. There is a splendid fountain in the middle, and a -drinking fountain somewhere else, and statues of Seward and Farragut. -Seward is sitting down, and looks as though he didn’t care. - -If I had room I could tell you lots of things about Madison Square; but -since you only let us have a few lines, what will a fellow do? I’m -going to the Christian Endeavor meeting in July, and that will give a -good chance to study up that part of the city, because the meeting is -to be in Madison Square. - - DAVID G. DUNLAP. - - * * * * * - -MY mother used to be a pupil in Cooper Institute, and when I went to -New York a few months ago father took me to see it. It is very large; -it cost more than six hundred thousand dollars. Peter Cooper built it -about thirty-five years ago; and then he gave three hundred thousand -dollars to keep the free library going which belongs to it. They have -all sorts of schools in the building. You can learn how to telegraph, -and to write on the type-writer, and how to draw and paint. My mother -was in the painting school, and she paints beautifully. We went up to -the reading-room; it is on the third floor; there are rows and rows and -rows of books! It makes me dizzy to think of so many. The books are all -covered, so they don’t look very pretty. There are long tables and lots -of chairs; you are given a check made of brass, or tin, or something, -when you go into the room; then if you want a book or magazine you go -to the desk and ask for it, and give that check in return; you cannot -get out of the room without that check, so you are apt to carry your -book back when you are done with it, and get your check again. After -all there are only about twenty thousand books on the shelves. I was -disappointed; I thought there were millions. - - EMMELINE ANDREWS. - - * * * * * - -DICK WALTERS is in our “General Information” class, and when -Trinity Church was talked about Dick declared he had been in the -old building which was put there in 1697. I knew better, because my -great-grandfather told about its being burned in the fire of 1776. But -we couldn’t make Dick Walters give up the notion that he was in the -very identical church built two hundred years ago. At last Professor -Townley explained that it was the old site, but a new church built in -1846. Since we had our fuss about it I have been there myself. It is -a splendid building, I think, if it isn’t two hundred years old. The -steeple is two hundred and eighty-four feet high, and the chimes are -lovely. It is an old brown church, and looks solemn and still; it is -right on Broadway, but when you step inside it seems just as still! You -can hear the birds chirp on the trees in the churchyard, though there -is a terrible roar of noise outside. Alexander Hamilton is buried in -Trinity churchyard. - - ROBERT PAXTON. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: THE OBELISK.] - -I SUPPOSE everybody will write about Central Park; but I can’t help -it, I want to tell some things about it myself. I was there in June. -We went up to Fifty-ninth Street and Fifth Avenue and took a carriage. -We drove through the Scholars’ Gate; this took us straight to the -menagerie, and we saw the bear-pits and everything, though they say -they don’t have the menagerie there any more. We took a row on the -lake, and we saw the Bethesda Fountain with its real angel—well, I mean -a carved one, of course—bending over the water. Then we walked through -The Ramble, which I think is the loveliest part of the park, only they -won’t let you break off the least little speck of a flower or leaf. -There are lots of birds, and they seemed busier and happier than any -birds I ever saw. We saw a sign directing us to the “Dairy,” so we went -there and got some splendid milk and some bread and butter. We children -wanted to go to “The Carousal”; that is a sign which points out the way -to the children’s playground, where there are swings and everything; -but father said we hadn’t time, and that we could have “carousals” -enough at home. - - LAURA J. WESTOVER. - - * * * * * - -LAURA has written a letter about Central Park, and hasn’t mentioned -the obelisk. Ho, ho! if that isn’t just like a girl. I have studied up -about it since I was there. They had an awful time bringing it over -here from Egypt. They had to cut a hole in the bow of the boat that -brought it to get it in; and then mend the hole, of course, before they -could start. And when the steamer reached New York it took thirty-two -horses to draw just the pedestal down to Central Park! - -[Illustration: VIEW OF MADISON SQUARE.] - -The carvings on the obelisk are called hieroglyphics, and used to mean -writing; but scholars have had a great time trying to find out what the -writing says. They don’t agree about it, but they think it is a lot of -stuff about some heathen gods. There are carved hawks on the top of the -column, and these are said to be the birds that belonged to one of the -gods, because they could fly the highest and could look at the sun. -The obelisk is sixty-nine feet high, and it weighs three hundred and -twenty tons. I don’t exactly see what we wanted of it; but it is rather -nice to look at it and think it came all the way from Egypt and was -presented to us by Ismail Pasha. - - REUBEN T. WESTOVER. - - * * * * * - -THE nicest ride I had while in New York was along Fifth Avenue. We -started at Washington Square and went up to Central Park. It is -almost three miles, and all the way there were such beautiful houses -and churches to look at, and the road was as smooth as the floor. We -passed the white marble house built by A. T. Stewart; it cost three -million dollars, and the people who now rent it pay thirty-seven -thousand dollars a year for it. Only think! and we get three hundred a -year for our house, and call it a good rent; but then, it didn’t cost -three millions. Then we passed the elegant Vanderbilt houses, and the -magnificent Lenox Library building, and O, dear! I can’t think what -others. I thought I knew a great deal about them when I began, but -they are all mixed up in my mind. But what I wanted to say was, that -the drive from Washington Square away up to Eighty-first Street must -certainly be the very splendidest in the world. I know I never saw so -many beautiful buildings before; and I do like grand houses and grand -churches and everything. - - KATE W. GLOVER. - -[Illustration: FIFTH AVENUE.] - - [It has been very difficult to select items for this - paper, because of the wealth of objects to choose from. - We could make the article twice as long just as well as - not, out of the material we have, if there were only - room for it in the magazine. Also, some of the best and - brightest items have been omitted, and others perhaps - not quite so interesting chosen in their place, because - they spoke of some building which we could show you in - picture. The Pansies will understand, I hope, that we - fully appreciate their efforts to help us, and that we - enjoy the many items which we do not use quite as much - as those we select. But do please be more prompt with - your letters.—EDITORS.] - - - - -THE MORROW. - - - OF all the tender guards which Jesus drew - About our frail humanity, to stay - The pressure and the jostle that alway - Are ready to disturb, whate’er we do, - And mar the work our hands would carry through, - None more than this environs us each day - With kindly wardenship—“Therefore, I say, - Take no thought for the morrow.” Yet we pay - The wisdom scanty heed, and impotent - To bear the burden of the imperious Now, - Assume the future’s exigence unsent. - God grants no overplus of power; ’tis shed - Like morning manna. Yet we dare to bow - And ask, “Give us to-day our morrow’s bread!” - —_Selected._ - - - - -MAJOR’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY. - - -III. - -IT is a nice light night, and if you youngsters have stared long enough -at the moon, since neighbor Sport has come to call we will try to be a -little more social. - -Pet and Spot and Curley may play on the lawn if they choose, and have -as good a time as they like. - -You have come to ask my advice, have you, Sport? - -Well, it doesn’t cost much to give advice, but it isn’t always so easy -to take it. - -What is the question in mind? - -Have been slighted and abused, have you? Tell us about it. - -Scolded you after you hunted birds all day for him, and then forgot to -give you any supper. That was pretty hard; pretty mean treatment, I -should say. - -Had your master been drinking? - -No? How came it about? - -“Why, just before time to start for home I found a big flock of quail, -and showed him just where they were; and he crept up, gun in hand, and -tried to fire, but for some reason the gun did not go off. - -“That put him out of humor, and he scolded the gun, and by that -frightened the birds so they flew away. - -“Then he sent me to find them, and I could get no snuff of them, -hunt as hard as I could. Then he spoke to me as he never did before, -and throwing the gun upon his shoulder started for the house, never -noticing me by any word, whistle or sign. - -“Well, I dropped my tail between my legs, and followed at a good -distance. - -“He didn’t forget the cow, or the pig, or the pony, but took no notice -of me, and I don’t believe I could eat now if I had a chance.” - -Poor fellow! come here and lie down by me. Never mind, never mind; -these men seem sometimes to have no heart for us, no matter how -faithful we have been. - -I am so thankful we have a master of another kind. - -One of you run and bring some of that supper that was left. - -We had a very nice supply this evening, and there is enough for two -hungry fellows yet. - -You just say no more till you have had the meat from that bone, and -see if you don’t feel better. Things hurt worse when one is tired and -hungry. - -There, now rest a while, and I will tell you a story about a -great-uncle of mine, who lived in Groton. - -He was pretty well educated, and did a great many things that some of -his four-footed friends would not be trusted to do, even if they knew -enough. - -Well, Diamond—that was his name—was pretty good-natured, but a little -sensitive. Being very affectionate, it was easy for those whom he loved -to hurt his feelings. - -His master was a mechanic, and had to go to his shop every day. The -distance was so great that he did not come home to dinner; so his wife -would prepare his dinner, put it in a pail, or in a basket, as it might -happen, lay in the bottom a nice bone for Diamond, and give it all to -him to take to his master. That he would do as faithfully as any one. - -When the master had finished eating what had been brought, or as much -as he wanted, he would take the bone, and any scraps left, and give -them to his faithful carrier, who had been, the while, lying under the -bench, patiently waiting. - -But one day there was a break. The mistress said she was going shopping -that day, and would take the dinner to her husband herself. - -That rather hurt Diamond’s feelings, though he said nothing, but -followed on, and lay down in his usual place to wait for his bone. The -master sat down to his dinner with no word for his faithful servant who -was not permitted to bring the basket, finished his meal, closed the -basket, and handed it to his wife. - -No bone was there, nothing for the one who had been waiting, hungry, -but patient. The only notice taken of him was a call to follow the lady -and carry the empty basket. With a heavy heart and drooping tail he -obeyed. When the purchases were made and put into the basket, Diamond -was ordered to go ahead of his mistress and take the burden home. - -On he trudged until he neared a bridge which they must cross, when a -thought came suddenly into Diamond’s mind, and quickly darting forward -to the middle of the bridge he went to one side of it, and deliberately -let the basket and its contents fall into the stream; then ran for home -as fast as his four legs could carry him. - -I am not telling you this because I think he did right, but that you -may see that others are treated as badly as you have been. - -I suppose I am sorry that a relative of mine ever resorted to revenge; -but it does sometimes seem very strange to me that more dogs do not -revenge themselves in some way for the hard treatment they so often -receive. - -You would not like to be guilty of such an act as that? - -Well, I am glad of it. Indeed, I think my kinsman was soon sorry for -what he had done. - -Let me tell you how he proved it. His master had been out nearly all -day with Diamond hunting. The next morning he discovered that he had -somewhere lost a key. So he showed Diamond another, and told him his -trouble, and ordered him to go and hunt for it. - -Off he went, and at three o’clock that afternoon returned, bringing the -lost key. - -He was tired and hungry, but a good dinner was ready for him, and kind -words soon made him forget his fatigue. - -In fact, I believe both master and dog were ashamed and sorry for the -past, and inwardly determined to do right in the future. - -Now after these true stories of my great-uncle, I hope you feel better, -and will go home, not to plan how you can be revenged, but how you can -be true and faithful, and, if possible, win better treatment in future. - - R. - - * * * * * - - OF the four hundred and thirteen species of trees in - the United States sixteen will sink in water. The - heaviest is the black-iron wood of Southern California. - - - - -BARNYARD ILLUSIONS. - - -SOMEBODY in one of our exchanges tells an amusing story of his attempt -at studying human nature in the barnyard. He placed a large piece -of looking-glass against the trunk of a tree, and scattered corn in -front of it, then took a convenient position and watched. Some of the -hens came up with cautious tread, to meet what they supposed were new -acquaintances, and were simply astonished and bewildered by the result. -Others pecked at the glass, and were anxious to get up a fight with the -supposed intruders. - -The high-stepping rooster was bent on a victory. He advanced with -skillful side steps, according to rooster fashion, and was amazed to -lose sight of his enemy. Of course he had stepped too far to the left -or right, and so gotten out of range of the glass, but this he did not -understand. He gave an astonished crow, looked about him fiercely, -saw no one, finally gave up and went back for a kernel of corn; -behold, just in front of it was that other rooster, looking fierce. -He made another attempt for a fight, with exactly the same result as -before; but the second surrender to mystery brought him quite near to -the mirror and his enemy. He ruffled his feathers, so did the other -rooster. He made a dash forward, so did the other, and—the rooster was -astonished; but you are prepared to hear that the mirror was broken -into bits. The question which seemed to puzzle that rooster for hours -afterwards was, What became of his enemy, that he could not find even a -feather of him lying about the yard? - - * * * * * - -A GOOD man in France is said to have invented an instrument with a very -fine tube to be inserted into the ear, by means of which sounds can be -heard by the deaf. - -Professor Dussouchet saw the experiment tried upon many deaf mutes, and -in every case with success. Sounds are sent into a large bell-shaped -contrivance; thence they pass down the fine tube and strike the -tympanum (ear drum). - - L. - -[Illustration: A SONG FROM THE HEART.] - -[Illustration: I NEED A CHRISTMAS DINNER.] - - - - -THE BOYHOOD OF TITIAN (_Tish’-yan_). - -_Pœta nascitur, non fit._ - - -THERE, that is not Greek or German, but Latin, and some day your -Pansy tongue will talk it off as readily, no doubt, as it now casts -English to your cat. Won’t it be just splendid for you to be in the -High School—and not at the foot of your class, either—reading Cæsar or -Cicero or Horace? - -[Illustration: STUDYING ITS CHARACTER.] - -“But what does that Latin mean?” - -It means, “A poet is born, not made.” - -“So is every one ‘born.’” - -No, not born a poet, neither can be made into a poet by study; that is, -a real true poet. Almost everybody can read poetry, and love it and -make rhymes; but that is not being a poet. - -You might just as well now learn that bit of Latin and surprise your -mamma some day at the dinner-table by saying: “_Pœta nascitur, non -fit._” The next time you can say: “_Orator nascitur, non fit,_” for -that is true too. It is true of an artist, and many, many others. We -all have different gifts at birth. (See Rom. xii. 6.) Johnny Brown can -sing and play upon almost any instrument. He is a born musician. His -brother can’t play even upon a jew’s-harp, but he can make one. He can -make a watch. His fingers can do all sorts of wonderful things such as -Johnny’s cannot. Boys differ; girls differ. They can’t be made alike. -One has one gift, one another. - -Titian was born an artist. - -What do you suppose he is doing there, one hand upon the limb of that -tree? - -“Going up for chestnuts.” - -No; try again. - -“Going to climb for a crow’s nest.” - -Not he. See that bit of a branch in his right hand. He is looking at -it to see its shape, the form and color of the leaves, and all about -it. He will paint that whole tree in a little while—no, no; paint one -on canvas just like it. When he is a few years older he will paint -portraits, then great elegant pictures. - -He was an Italian boy, born in 1477. - -Columbus was then about thirty-five years old. He had just made his -great voyage to Iceland and got back when Titian was a baby. I guess -Titian saw the born voyager and discoverer, and as likely as not -painted his portrait or ships. But one of his masterpieces, or greatest -works, is St. Peter, Martyr; another, The Presentation of the Virgin. - - L. - - - - -HANNIBAL’S VOW. - - -MANY hundred years ago there were two magnificent cities on opposite -sides of the Mediterranean Sea. One was Carthage and the other was -Rome. But they were jealous of each other, and shook their fists at -each other and went to war, each trying to do the other all the harm it -was possible. - -In Carthage was a man by the name of Hannibal. He hated Rome bitterly. - -A little before his death he took his son out to the altar, where they -burned sacrifice to the gods, and made him lift up his hands in a vow -or promise to always hate and harm the Romans. - -It was an awful thing for any one to do, but how dreadful for a dying -man. So young Hannibal swore by the gods, Jupiter, Juno, Apollo, -Hercules, Mars, Triton and Neptune, and all the other Dæmons. - -The old man died. When young Hannibal was now twenty-four he was made -commander of the troops, and, dressed in a coat of armor, he started -from Carthage with a mighty army. Away he marched toward Spain, -conquering and slaying his enemies on the way. On and on he went, over -rivers and highest mountains. The Romans, when they heard that he was -in Spain, laughed at the thought of his coming to Rome; they said none -but gods could do such a thing. But they had not long to laugh. He and -his conquering host clambered over the Pyrenees, then over the high -steep Alps, then “down upon the soft and smiling plains of Italy.” -Then all was excitement in great Rome. Every one became a soldier of -some sort. “To arms! to arms!” was the cry. The city was turned into a -fort. Mighty armies went out to meet Hannibal, but one after another -was slaughtered or put to flight. In one of the great battles forty -thousand Romans were slain! - -The Roman general, Fabius, was a great man, but he was compelled to -retreat before Hannibal. But just then, when the people in the great -city were trembling lest Hannibal would be upon them to burn the whole -city and put the inhabitants to death, word came from Carthage that -he must hurry home with his army and save Carthage from a Roman army -coming upon it, led by a wonderful general, Scipio. Soon these two -conquering hosts met at Zama, not far from Carthage, and here for the -first time poor Hannibal was defeated, and in the course of time proud -Carthage was utterly destroyed. - - L. - - - - -THE WAR OF THE ROSES. - - -FIVE hundred years ago began very troublous times in England, and it -went on many bloody years. You see, there were two great parties, as in -this country, each struggling to rule. In this country they fight it -out at the ballot box, with bits of paper upon which names are printed. -The man or party which gets the greater number of ballots rules. In -England years ago they fought it out with blows. The party which could -strike the harder blows ruled. - -The names of these two great parties were York and Lancaster. The -Yorkers wore the white rose, the Lancastrians the red rose, so it was -called the War of the Roses. Oh! the fierce battles, the groans of the -dying and the banners rolled in blood; neighbors, sometimes brothers, -killing each other. - -And their homes, the mothers and children, what happened to them during -all those hundred years? You must not know. But what must the Lord -Jesus have thought of it all? - -If it had been for some great good—to put an end to stealing, cruelty, -drunkenness or some such dreadful thing—it would not seem so bad; but -it was just to get upon a throne and then to be cruel to the defeated -party. The great trouble was that this man or that wanted to be king -just as in America a man wants to be president. Richard the Third -wanted it so much that he caused his two little nephews to be smothered -to death while asleep, lest they would grow up and trouble him! This -was four hundred years ago. - - L. - - - - -BABY’S CORNER. - -COME TO SUPPER. - - -ONE pleasant summer day Jamie’s mamma said they would have tea out -under the trees, because it was papa’s birthday. - -[Illustration: THE NAUGHTY ROOSTER.] - -She spread a pink cloth on the table, and brought out some pretty -dishes. Jamie thought it was fine fun. - -He helped to carry out the biscuits and strawberries, and he put the -knives and spoons by the side of the plates. - -They had to hurry, because pretty soon the five o’clock train would -come in, and papa would be on it. - -When mamma went into the house to make the tea she gave Jamie a piece -of cake and told him to sit down on the grass and rest his tired little -feet. - -Jamie liked to sit in that pretty spot. There were green grass and -daisies and buttercups all about him, and oh! how good the cake tasted. - -Pretty soon the old rooster saw that Jamie was alone, and that he had -something good to eat. - -So he called to his family: “Come quick! come to supper.” - -Then the gray hen and the yellow hen and the speckled hen and the white -banties came running as fast as they could run to get some of Jamie’s -cake. - -Old Speckle got the first bite, a great big one, and carried it off to -eat it. Then Old Yellow came up one side and the rooster came the other -side, and one took a bite, and the other took a bite. - -Jamie began to cry. Mamma heard him. She came out, and said: “Shoo! -shoo!” - -[Illustration: JAMIE BEGAN TO CRY.] - -And away went the chickabiddies as fast as they could fly, and no more -supper for them that night. - - MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON. - - * * * * * - - OUT in the garden, wee Elsie - Was gathering flowers for me; - “O, mamma!” she cried, “hurry, hurry, - Here’s something I want you to see.” - I went to the window; before her - A velvet-winged butterfly flew, - And the pansies themselves were not brighter - Than the beautiful creature in hue. - “Oh! isn’t it pretty?” cried Elsie, - With eager and wondering eyes, - As she watched it soar lazily upward - Against the soft blue of the skies. - “I know what it is, don’t you, mamma?” - Oh! the wisdom of these little things - When the soul of a poet is in them. - “It’s a pansy—a pansy with wings.” - —_Selected._ - - - - -THE HARD TEXT. - -(_Matt._ xiii. 12.) - - -NO, it does not seem fair at all to give to him that has something, and -to refuse it to one that hasn’t anything scarcely, and even to take -away what little that one has! Just think of giving a rich Pansy five -hundred dollars more, and then snatching away the last penny from a -poor Pansy! - -Surely you don’t suppose the loving, gentle, merciful Lord Jesus meant -any such thing? Of course he didn’t. - -“What did He mean?” Why, simply this, my dear; that one who makes good -use of his gifts will have more gifts. He will grow wiser and better, -and go up higher all the time, just like a tree that uses well the good -ground and good air and good dew around it. And the tree, that for some -reason won’t send its roots down and this way and that and set every -one of its leaves to breathing, such a lazy tree will lose all its life -and die, the first wide-awake tree sucking up that very life. - -It may be just so with two Pansies. One is good, true, active, the -other one isn’t; how one will go up and the other down; how one will -increase and the other decrease until one seems to have all the good, -even the little the other started out with. - -You borrow from a bank one hundred dollars and pay it back with -interest when your note is due, and quite likely the bank will loan you -two hundred dollars then, if you want it, and so on, increasing it just -as you are faithful. But if you don’t pay as you promised, because you -were lazy, your one hundred dollars will be taken from you and loaned -to one who may have ten thousand dollars, because he makes good use of -it. We are all on trial. How happy we should be to be trusted by the -Lord! It’s a fearful thing when he will not loan us any more. - - L. - - * * * * * - - GOOD temper, like a sunny day, sheds brightness over - everything. It is the sweetener of toil and the soother - of disquietude. - - - - -INASMUCH. - - - “IF I had dwelt”—so mused a tender woman, - All fine emotions stirred - Through pondering o’er that Life, divine yet human, - Told in the sacred Word— - - “If I had dwelt of old, a Jewish maiden, - In some Judean street, - Where Jesus walked, and heard his word so laden - With comfort strangely sweet, - - “And seen the face where utmost pity blended, - With each rebuke of wrong; - I would have left my lattice and descended, - And followed with the throng. - - “If I had been the daughter, jewel-girdled, - Of some rich rabbi there; - Seeing the sick, blind, halt, my blood had curdled - At the sight of such despair. - - “And I had wrenched the sapphires from my fillet, - Nor let one spark remain; - Snatched up my gold, amid the crowd to spill it, - For pity of their pain. - - “I would have let the palsied fingers hold me; - I would have walked between - The Marys and Salome, while they told me - About the Magdalene. - - “‘Foxes have holes’—I think my heart had broken - To hear the words so said, - While Christ had not—were sadder ever spoken?— - ‘A place to lay his head.’ - - “I would have flung abroad my doors before Him, - And in my joy have been - First on the threshold, eager to adore Him, - And crave his entrance in!” - - Ah, would you so? Without a recognition - You passed Him yesterday; - Jostled aside, unhelped his mute petition, - And calmly went your way. - - With warmth and comfort garmented and girdled, - Before your window-sill - Sweep heart-sick crowds; and if your blood is curdled - You wear your jewels still. - - You catch aside your robes, lest want should clutch them - In its imploring wild; - Or else some woful penitent might touch them, - And you be thus defiled. - - O, dreamers! dreaming that your faith is keeping - All service free from blot, - Christ daily walks your streets, sick, suffering, weeping, - And ye perceive him not! - M. J. PRESTON, _in The Independent_. - - * * * * * - -I READ of a boy who had a remarkable dream. He thought that the richest -man in town came to him and said: “I am tired of my house and grounds; -come and take care of them and I will give them to you.” Then came an -honored judge and said: “I want you to take my place; I am weary of -being in court day after day; I will give you my seat on the bench if -you will do my work.” - -Then the doctor proposed that he take his extensive practice and let -him rest, and so on. At last up shambled old Tommy, and said: “I’m -wanted to fill a drunkard’s grave; I have come to see if you will take -my place in these saloons and on these streets?” - -Harold laughed about his dream, but somebody who knew how Harold was -being brought up, said: “Do you know, I shouldn’t be surprised if of -all the offers he accepted the last? He has talent enough to become a -judge, or a physician, or to make his fortune, but I am afraid he will -grow up to take old Tommy’s place.” - -Who is willing to help fill “Old Tommy’s” place? - - - - -FROM BIRDLAND. - - -IF we only knew how to understand bird language, I fancy we might be -made acquainted with a great many pretty secrets which now they keep to -themselves. - -[Illustration] - -I have been reading lately about a gentleman in New York who has a -collection of birds, and who makes a study of those who flit about -his home in summer. At one time he had a blind sparrow among his -collection, and a little bird named Dick seemed to have adopted it. He -waited at the door of its house for it to come out, calling it with -tender little chirps, and when the blind one finally appeared he would -lead the way to the seeds and water. - -When his friend was ready to return home to rest Dick would shove him -gently along the perch until he was opposite his own door, then give -a chirp which seemed to say: “There you are, jump in,” and in would -spring the little sparrow, safe at home. Surely Dick ought to be -elected as at least an honorary member of the “Helping Hand Society.” -What if he hasn’t any hands? He succeeds in being a very efficient -helper. - - EFIL SREDNOW. - - * * * * * - - THERE are a few who make their life “a song,” - A silvery call to urge tired souls along, - A clear bell o’er the cope - Of the steep mountain they have had to climb - With such a patience, they have made sublime - The soul’s forlornest hope. - And when these dear ones hidden pass adown - “The other side,” beyond the mountain’s crown, - The silvery tinkling vein - Of gladness comes aback to touch us so— - New courage in our sinking heart doth grow, - We urge us on again. - —_Selected._ - -[Illustration: AN OLD QUACK.] - - - - -ANGIE’S CROSS.—I. - -(_Character Studies._) - - -EVERYBODY said Angie Conran had a “perfectly lovely voice,” extremely -well cultivated for one so young. Her music teacher was in the habit -of patting her hand in a patronizing way, at the close of almost every -lesson, and saying, in broken French: “Mees Angie, you will make what -you Americans call a mark in the world; remember I tell you.” - -Angie was a member of the choir, and a very faithful one; a member -of the “Choral Club,” and practiced early and late to help make it a -success. On the particular evening of which I wish to tell you she was -seated at the piano, giving a last half-hour of practice to the anthem -before she went to rehearsal. Her mother and I sat in the back parlor, -where we could have the full benefit of the music. How the exquisite -melody filled the room, and how distinctly was every word spoken. - - “Nearer, my God, to thee, - Nearer to thee, - E’en though it be a cross - That raiseth me; - Still all my song shall be, - Nearer, my God, to thee, - Nearer to thee!” - -“That is as good as a recitation,” I said. “How very distinctly Angie -speaks her words.” - -“Yes,” said the proud mother; “she prides herself on being heard. She -says she would never have any pleasure in singing Italian songs; that -she would want the words as well as the music to be uplifting. Angie -prefers sacred music, I think; her heart seems to echo the sentiment -of the words. What she is practicing now is to be sung to-morrow -morning, just before the sermon. Our pastor requested it. This is a new -arrangement, with solo and quartette, and Angie takes the solo. If the -other parts are as beautiful as the soprano, I think it will be lovely. -Angie dear, isn’t it time you were going?” - -“In a minute, mamma; I want to try this minor strain first.” The -sweet, tender sounds filled the room: - - “Though like a wanderer, - Daylight all gone, - Darkness be over me, - My rest a stone.” - -“Isn’t that exquisite?” whispered the mother, when the last notes -had died away. Then, in almost the same breath, “Angie dear, it is -beginning to rain; are you prepared for rain?” - -“O, dear, how provoking! No, ma’am, I can’t say I am in the least -prepared for it.” - -The mother arose and moved toward the music-room. “Why, dear child!” -she said, in surprise, “you ought not to have that dress on to-night. -Even if it were not a rainy evening it is not suitable to wear to a -rehearsal.” - -“Why not, pray? ever so many people come to the rehearsals. I want to -be as well dressed as I am on Sunday.” - -“My dear, that is a pretty evening dress, and the rain will spot it, -you know. You would have to wear your gossamer, and that would crush -the trimmings. Besides, it doesn’t look at all suitable for this -evening. If you were going out to a social gathering you could not -dress more than that. Do go and change it, dear; it won’t take you -long.” - -“I assure you, mamma, it is quite out of the question that I should -change my dress now. It is already late; you just said I ought to be -going. It was quite a work of art to get this dress on, and I haven’t -the least desire to change it; I am not at all afraid of it.” - -“But, my dear child, just consider how unsuitable it is. Those laces -at the neck and wrists are real, you know, and as fine as cobwebs; -you certainly could not dress more than that if you were going to a -reception.” - -“O, mamma! how absurd. As though anybody would take notice of me, or -care whether my laces were real or not. They fit the dress, any way, -and as long as I don’t object to them I don’t see why anybody else -should.” - -“My daughter, your mother objects to them. Moreover, the dress is lower -in the neck than you have been wearing all day, and it is quite a cool -evening; that in itself should be sufficient to make you change it. I -really must insist on your putting on a more proper dress.” - -Angie’s pretty fingers came down upon the keys with a crash which -made me start in my chair; then she whirled herself about on the -music-stool. “Really, mamma,” she said, and the voice was so sharp it -hardly seemed possible that it could be the same which had filled the -room with melody, “I should think I was old enough to decide what dress -to wear; I am almost fifteen, and I think I might have the privilege of -choosing my own clothes once in a while.” - -“Do not speak in that tone, dear,” said her mother gently. “You shall -have all the privileges I can give you; but we haven’t time to discuss -it now. Run and slip on your gray cashmere, it is in order; I fixed -that place in the sleeve this morning, and brushed it and got it all -ready to put on.” - -“Mamma Conran! that old gray cashmere. As if I would go out in it -to-night! Why, the Barnards come to rehearsal, and the Needhams, and -their cousin from New York. The idea of rigging up in that old thing -and standing out there to sing, the most prominent person in the choir. -I just can’t do it! If I can’t wear the dress I have on I’m not going -at all.” - -“My daughter, don’t be so foolish; the rehearsal surely doesn’t depend -upon the dress you wear. You are wasting time; I cannot think of -letting you go in that dress. If I had noticed it before I should have -called your attention to it; but I hadn’t the least idea you would -think of putting it on. The gray cashmere is entirely suitable, my -dear. Your mother has not lost all sense of propriety, even though she -is older than fifteen. You must allow yourself to be guided by her. I -would not make a scene if I were you, and spoil the beauty of the music -you have given us. There is ample time just to slip on another dress. -Run along, and I will get out your wraps and have them ready for you -when you come down.” - -“Mamma, I’m not going to do it. I told you if I had to wear that old -cashmere dress I shouldn’t go out of the house to-night, and I meant -it. Other girls can wear decent dresses. Carrie Wheeler wears a white -silk to rehearsal often, and here I have got to rig up like an old -woman and sing the leading part. You don’t know anything about it, -mamma; it is so long since you were a girl you don’t realize how girls -dress now. I wouldn’t hurt this dress and you know it. It is just too -mean for anything. You always spoil my pleasure.” - -“Angeline!”—the mother’s gentle voice was growing stern at last—“I -cannot allow you to speak to your mother in that way. There are the -Wheeler girls coming up the walk now, to call for you. If you will go -immediately and change your dress I will explain to them that you will -be down in a few minutes.” - -A loud, angry cry from Angie, a sound like that from a naughty child -who had lost all control of herself, and between the sobs she managed -to get out: “I won’t go a single step, and you can tell them so; and -you can tell them the reason, if you choose; then they will understand -just what hard times I have.” And with another jarring crash of the -keys the angry girl left the room, slamming the door after her. - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration: THE SCHOOL-GIRL OF 1830.] - -[Illustration: THE BLOSSOMVILLE BAND.] - - - - -ELSIE’S PLAN.—II. - -(_Something for Mamma._) - - -“I’M going to stop its raveling,” said Elsie serenely. “I’m going -to overcast it, as mother does dress seams, and then line it with -Margaret’s dress skirt; that is real strong, and will make it stand up -beautifully.” - -Sure enough, by dint of patient, painstaking effort, a circle of -matting measuring nearly a yard around was cut off, the raw edges -“overcast” with a large needle and strong linen thread, then the dress -skirt was ripped and carefully smoothed. A journey to the kitchen, -where Mrs. Hobbs, the woman who washed and ironed on the same day for -this fallen family, was at work. Elsie hinted that it would save her -time if Irma would see to the ironing, but at that moment Irma was in -the depths of her book, and seemed to be deaf. Back again with her -ironed skirt, the yard of matting was laid on the floor, the cloth -spread over it and neatly tacked at sides and ends; then the long side -seam was sewed, amid statements from Irma that it could not be done, -because whose arms could be expected to reach down such a ridiculous -cylinder as that to sew! It was hard work. Twice Elsie gave up with a -sigh, and once was on the point of going to Margaret for advice, but -the strong desire to do the work herself held her, and she actually did -accomplish it! To stand the cylinder on one end, and draw with white -chalk a “head” for it, and then another a trifle larger for a cover, -was comparatively easy. These two were lined by cutting out a circle -of cloth three inches larger than the matting circle, running a strong -gathering string around the edge, and drawing it up around the matting. - -“What is the use of that?” Irma demanded; and upon being informed that -it was for strength and also to give something substantial to sew to, -she said, with a little sniff, “Such a lot of trouble for what will -only be an ugly bungle when you get it done.” - -“It will be a bungle that will hold the clothes nicely,” Elsie said -merrily. - -She was so sure now of succeeding that she could afford to be merry. - -The small patient fingers sewed away, and Irma, watching, grew -interested in spite of herself. “You are not making a true round for -the cover,” she presently exclaimed. “The thing wiggles in and out so, -it is hard to make a true circle; you ought to cut a paper pattern -first, and work at it until you get it true, then cut the matting by -it. Here, I’ll make a pattern for you; and if I were you I would wire -the creature around the top; that would make it stay in place.” - -“That is an excellent idea,” Elsie said, “and I know just where there -is a bit of wire that will do; I’ll run and get it.” She smothered a -wee sigh as she went; it was a good plan to cut a pattern, and Irma’s -eye for cutting was better than her own, but she had wanted to do this -work entirely herself. The pattern was troublesome, but at last a fair -circle was made, an edge of matting four inches deep sewed around it, -the whole carefully lined, and the thing was done. - -“It really looks very well,” Irma said, “and will do to stand in the -back hall. That wire around the top was a good scheme.” - -“Yes,” said Elsie heartily, “it was.” - -Mrs. Harding gave no faint praise the next morning when the matting -“hamper,” duly addressed and wrapped, stood close to her seat at table. -She examined the workmanship most minutely, declared that the idea was -original, and the completed work most useful. - -“You have no idea how much more precious it is to me than anything -bought with money could possibly be,” she said, kissing again the rosy -cheeks of her youngest daughter, while the others looked on, smiling. -Then truthful Elsie bethought herself. “Irma helped me,” she said -quickly; “she made the circle true, and planned the wire for the top; -it would not have been nearly so nice without her help.” - -“I didn’t do the least thing, mother, except to cut a paper pattern for -her, and to propose that some wire be sewed around the top. She had it -nearly done before I said a word. It is all nonsense to say I helped. -All I did was to give a little advice.” - -The older daughters laughed merrily, for Irma was very fond of giving -advice; but Mrs. Harding drew Irma to her side and kissed her lovingly, -while she said: “There spoke my truthful girl. She is not going to be -commended for what she has not done.” - -“Oh! but, mother, she did truly help,” was Elsie’s eager explanation. - -“Of course she did,” declared Margaret; “I have seen the time when I -needed a little good advice more than any other kind of help.” - - PANSY. - - - - -MAJOR’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY - -IV. - - -I AM glad you do not get tired of my talking so much about myself, and -what I have seen and heard. It shows how you have been brought up, so -far; and if we old dogs live a great deal in the past you may pick up -a little wisdom from us, after all, and be none the worse for what -we say, if you only learn to profit by our experiences and avoid our -mistakes. - -You want to hear more? Well, let me see, what shall I tell you about -this time? I am reminded by the talk I overheard about the family going -to the seaside, of the summer when I was two years old. I spent it with -my old master at a place on the New Jersey coast. There did not seem -to be any one with whom I could well stay at home; besides, my young -master’s little girl was very anxious to have me go with them, so they -finally agreed to it, and were not sorry afterwards. - -As I remember, I enjoyed the bathing as well as any of the party, or -would have done so had I not been anxious all the time about little -Lucy’s drowning. When those big waves would roll in, it seemed to me -they meant to carry my little friend out of my sight forever. - -The summer proved to be one which we could all remember without trying. -For the first few weeks there was nothing very unusual happened, and -some seemed to think it was going to be very dull and monotonous. But -it “is a long road that has no turn,” and a “turn” finally came which -was exciting enough for all of us. - -The old settlers near the beach said we were to have a storm which -would afford us a chance for a vacation in our bathing, and give us a -sight of some “big seas,” for we would probably see the Atlantic in one -of his angry moods before many hours. - -We felt ready for the change, and lay down at night thinking what a -good time we would have the next day looking at the great waves roll in. - -I knew the wind was blowing pretty fresh, but had such a protected -place that I did not know how the storm had arisen until towards -morning I heard the sound of a big gun. It sounded again and again, and -then there was a noise in the house, and a general turn out and rush -for the beach. Of course I followed the crowd, and soon learned what -was the matter. There was a ship in distress, and being driven upon the -shore. - -The men were there with the life-saving apparatus, and soon a line was -got out to the ship, and they were running a kind of boat back and -forth upon it, bringing the passengers from the ship to the shore. - -Well, the people were all safety landed, but there was a splendid big -dog on that ship, and no one had seemed to think of or to care for him. -O, yes! he knew how to swim, but that was a terribly angry water, and -the distance was great, and they said there was an ugly undertow. That -means that water which has come pouring in upon the shore runs back on -the bottom with such power sometimes as to carry anything with it that -it can get hold of. - -Poor Hercules—that was the dog’s name—had seen himself left there -alone, the while the great waves were breaking all over the ship. If -the poor fellow had been a fool he might have suffered less, for he -would have thrown himself into the water at once; but as it was he -knew the danger. Why, we could hear his howl above the noise of the -breakers! and some of the men were almost wild with anxiety to try to -save him. I suppose none of them thought the poor dog would know enough -to get into that little car which had brought the people to the shore; -and if he had he could not have shut himself in. So there he was. His -owner, having several children besides his wife and the nurse to look -after, had entirely forgotten the dog. - -Hercules ran up and down the deck until there finally came a wave much -bigger than any which had preceded it, and he was washed overboard. Of -course he did then the best he could, and that was saying a great deal, -for he was a powerful fellow; but those were terrible waves, and what -could anything but a fish do in such a sea? We could see him now and -then upon the crest of a wave, and then he would disappear. Every time -we saw him he seemed to be nearer the shore, and we had a little hope -that some big sea would throw him near enough for us to help him. - -[Illustration: HERCULES.] - -But the women and children must be cared for, so the people were soon -gone, only a few of the boarders remaining to watch the sea, all -believing the four-footed passenger to have been drowned. Looking -steadily, I thought I caught sight of the fellow once, then again, and -much nearer the shore. Yes, there he was, and a big wave landed him so -near that his body actually rolled over on the sand, as the waves ran -back to their home again. He was too weak to help himself; but I ran -down, and before the next wave came seized him by the back of the neck -and stopped his rolling; but he was too heavy for me to drag alone. My -presence, however, seemed to give him courage, and he got upon his feet -again; then came another wave and covered us both. This did not prove -to be so heavy as most of them, and the men came to our assistance, so -brave Hercules was saved. - -Those who had remained to see this part of the scene sent up a rousing -shout, and both of us were petted at a great rate. - -I have never seen many happier moments in my long life than those which -followed for a little while. I was so glad to see this stranger safe, -and glad that I had been able to help save him! - -He understood it all, too, though he did not understand English very -well. I need not tell you that we were together that summer all we -could be. The man who owned the dog had gone off and left him, and my -master said that Hercules belonged to him more than to any one else, -because I had been the means of saving his life. - -But after a while the dog’s master came down there from New York to -look after the wreck, and see if he could not find anything of value -washed ashore which belonged to him. The place proved so pleasant -that he sent for his family to come and spend a few weeks. They had -experienced such a fright from the ocean the day of the wreck that at -first they were very shy of the water, but it was not long before they -were in with the others, enjoying the bathing. - -This lasted for some time, and the children became very careless, -venturing out where they ought not. My new friend and his master had -not met since the day of the storm, as they were bathing at another -part of the beach. For some reason my master decided not to go into -the water one day, and we took a stroll along the beach to where those -people were bathing. We had hardly reached the place, and my master -seated himself in a comfortable position to watch the bathers, when -Hercules gave a loud bark, as much as to say “Come,” and bounded into -the breakers. Of course I followed fast after him, on, on, out into -the sea; and he had his master’s little Gretchen by the back of her -bathing-suit and was starting for the shore. It was a hard struggle; it -was all both of us could do to save her. - -The poor child was almost gone when we got to her, for no one had -noticed her trouble and danger except Hercules. - -Well, there was a scene on the shore again, and for a time one could -hardly tell which the father was most rejoiced over, the saving of his -child, or the sight of the dog who had saved her life. - -Yes, we had a good time the rest of the summer, and then we had to -part; for of course the man had his dog back again. - -How I have wished I might see the brave fellow once more. I think he -will never be forsaken again. - -They went away from the coast a little earlier than we did. The -children all bade me good-by, and Hercules’ master invited me to go -with them. We had a long visit the night before they went, and both -of us felt very sorry to part company; but some way people do not -think that we dogs have much heart, or ever mourn for absent friends. -There, excuse that tear, but it always makes me feel badly to talk of -Hercules, and that delightful summer by the sea. - - R. - - - - -FLY-LEAF WISDOM FOUND IN AN OLD BOOK. - - - READ slowly, pause frequently, - Think seriously, - Keep cleanly, return daily, - With the corners of the leaves - Not turned down. - - - - -ABOUT CHICAGO. - -BY THE PANSIES. - - -I THINK it is great fun to go to Chicago on a visit, and then come back -and hear about it as it used to be. My grandfather went there in 1833. -He was just a boy, but he remembers lots of queer things. He went to -church in a kind of a barn; the front part was the church, and there -was a curtain in the middle, and behind it the minister lived—slept, -you know, and ate, and everything. Think of that for Chicago! There was -a school kept in a little room on Water Street; the woman who taught -it had twenty scholars. The mail was brought once a week by a man on -horseback, and the postmaster had a row of old boots nailed up on the -wall for mail boxes. Grandfather says the place had begun to grow real -fast when he went there, and as many as two hundred frame houses were -built within a short time. He was there when they voted to make it a -regular town, with officers and laws. One law was that pigs must not -run in the streets, and that people must not cut holes in their outside -walls and poke stove-pipe through them. - - ROBERT CHAPPELL. - -[Illustration: CHICAGO IN 1820.] - - * * * * * - -THE word “Chicago” used to be spelled “Chicagoux.” Some people think -it was named for the “Cheagomeinan River,” which is the Indian name -for the Chicago River. The Indians called the Mississippi River -“Chacaqua,” which means “divine river,” and I think they worked the -name Chicago out of all these notions. My uncle says the name of the -French fort in 1688 was Fort Checagou. I like to study about names, and -find what they mean, and how many changes they have had before we got -hold of them. I have never been to Chicago, but I expect to attend the -Columbian Exposition. If you will wait until after that I will tell you -something about the city. It is larger than it used to be. - - THOMAS L. WOOD, JR. - - * * * * * - -MY father knows about a man who bought a lot in Chicago in the year -1832 for one hundred dollars, and sold it again about three years -afterwards for fifteen thousand dollars! I think that tells a boy -better than anything else could, how fast the town grew for a while. Of -course it was a nice choice lot, in what suddenly became the business -part of the town. I know I should like to have been its first owner. - - ROBERT TOWNSEND. - - * * * * * - -I READ about how Chicago came to be called the “Garden City.” It grew -out of hard times. They had what is called a business panic, when -everybody owed everybody else, and could not pay them, and business was -awfully dull, and people thought the town was going to ruin. The most -people had to do was to take care of their grounds. They whitewashed -the fences, cleaned up the yards, planted fruits and vines, and did -everything they could think of to make their places look pretty. I -suppose they hoped somebody would come along and buy them. And that is -the way they got the name of “Garden City.” - - ALICE PETERSON. - - * * * * * - -THE people who lived in Chicago about the year 1843 certainly could not -have had so high an opinion of the city as people do who live there -now. A Mr. Miltimore built a schoolhouse on Madison Street which was -called “Miltimore’s Folly,” because people did not believe that there -would ever be children enough in the town to fill so large a building. -The mayor of the city urged the Council to have it turned into an -insane asylum, or sold, and the money from it used to build and care -for a smaller building, suited to the present and future needs of the -city! I don’t think he could have been a very bright man, because in -less than four years from that time the building was not only crowded -with scholars, but three others had to be opened in different parts of -the city. - - ROGER SHERMANN. - - * * * * * - -CHICAGO is a great place for manufactories. It seems to me as though -almost everything was made there. I know they make brooms, and bricks, -and boilers, and hats and caps, and saws, and scales, and nails, and -paint, and gloves, and carpets, and I am sure I don’t know what else; I -guess they make everything. Once I went to the car-wheel factory where -they make three hundred wheels every day. It was great fun to see the -men work. I like to see things made, and that is what I am going to do -when I am a man. - - ROBBIE WILSON. - - [We are almost certain Robbie means that when he is - a man he is going to help make things; not merely - stand still and see them made. Good for Robbie! What - would become of us if all the people who are hard - at work making things should grow tired of their - work, and conclude to—write books, for instance, - instead?—EDITORS.] - - * * * * * - -WE are reading in school about the Chicago fire, which was in 1871. I -think it is perfectly dreadful to read about it. Just think! it all -came from a woman milking after dark, when she ought to have done it -before, I suppose; or maybe her little boy ought to have done it for -her, and did not come home in time—well, the cow kicked her lamp over -and set the hay in the barn on fire, and all that awful ruin came! - -I think that woman must have felt dreadfully. As for the cow, I don’t -suppose she cared a bit. - - LAURA JONES. - - * * * * * - -I KNOW a man who was in Chicago at the time of the fire, and he -paid fifteen dollars for a hack to drive him half a mile! He says -a hundred thousand people were made homeless that night. Folks ran -through the streets as if they were crazy. Everybody was trying to -carry something of theirs to a safe place. One woman tried to save her -sewing-machine; she dragged it through the streets a long distance. One -man walked along quietly, carrying an ice-pitcher. He said it was all -he had left in the world. - -[Illustration: PICTORIAL CHICAGO. - -PALMER HOUSE - -STATE ST. LOOKING So. - -COURT-HOUSE & CITY HALL - -CUSTOM HOUSE & POST-OFFICE - -CHICAGO RIVER - -NO. SIDE WATER WORKS] - -The poor man had been made crazy by his losses, and did not know what -he was about. - - THOMAS JONES. - - * * * * * - -WE lived in Terre Haute, Ind., at the time of the great Chicago fire—at -least my folks did—and my father says that on Monday, the ninth, while -the fire was still burning, a train loaded full of provisions went -out of Terre Haute for them. I think that was nice. There is a boy -in school who says that his folks, who lived in Pittsburg, raised a -hundred thousand dollars before Wednesday night, and sent it to the -Chicago sufferers, and another fellow said that was nothing; that his -uncle in Louisville raised most a hundred thousand within ten hours -after the fire began! He talked as though his uncle did it all, but I -suppose some others helped. - - WILLARD J. MOONEY. - - * * * * * - -I THINK the great big splendid temperance temple is the grandest -building in Chicago, and I helped build it. I gave two dollars and -seventeen cents that I earned myself, for it. In 1893 I am going to see -it, and some other things. I think you ought to have waited until after -the Columbian Exposition for letters about Chicago. Then we could have -told lots of things. - - MARY CLARKSON. - - * * * * * - -I WENT to Chicago with my grown-up sisters when the Y. P. S. C. E. had -its big meeting there. We stopped at the Sherman House. That is one -of the nicest hotels in the city. At seven o’clock Sunday morning we -had a prayer meeting in the billiard-room; more than a hundred young -ladies and gentlemen spoke at that meeting in less than a half-hour, -and the singing was lovely. The big meetings were held in Battery -D. Ever so many thousand people were there all the time. Some of the -speeches were splendid. Chicago is very large. My cousin and I took a -ride on a street car as far as it went, then got out and took another -line and went as far as its route, just to see the city. They have very -tall buildings. I went to the Herald office; that is the handsomest -newspaper building in the world, I guess. - - LUCY J. HARTMANN. - - * * * * * - -ONCE I went to the church where Mr. Moody used to preach. I heard the -Rev. Charles Goss; he is young. I liked him. I went to a splendid -store, but I don’t remember where it was. There was a newsboys’ dinner -given while we were there, and I went to look at the boys eating their -cake and cream. There were hundreds of them, and they ate fast and -seemed to like it. - -A great many benevolent things like that are done in Chicago, but I -think they need a temperance temple; I saw lots of drunken men, and one -drunken woman. - - ALICE PETERS. - - [We have still more, about incidents which happened - in Chicago rather than about the city itself, but we - have already crowded our space. If the Pansies could - be induced to get their letters in earlier they would - stand a better chance of being selected from.—EDITORS.] - - - - -THINGS WHICH SOME PEOPLE REGRET. - - -HOW many of the Pansies have heard the “silver-tongued orator” lecture -on his special theme, Temperance? All of you who have will be sure to -hear him again at the first opportunity. Those of you who have not, -let me urge to keep on the watch for a chance. Meantime, listen to -his hint, which ought to help every boy who reads it to be a better -educated man. - - “I regret that the many hours of youth I gave to idle - pleasures were not used in storing my mind with useful - knowledge.” - - Yours truly, - GEORGE W. BAIN. - - - - -THE LAPPS. - - -FRANCE is “sunny.” It loves shade-trees, fans and fountains. Laplanders -must need have furs and fire and fat food. Of course you know why. -Those Lapp faces would look equally well as Mr. William’s, if they -were to exchange dresses, putting a Lapp where the Emperor now sits so -loftily. Give the Lapp the very same chance, and maybe he would make -just as wise a ruler of Prussia. People are not so unlike, after all. -When God would raise up the greatest Prophet that ever appeared on -the earth, he found him in the despised Nazareth. Maybe he is nursing -a little child of one of these Lapps who will one day be as great as -young Master Wilhelm of Prussia. - - L. - -[Illustration: INTERESTING FACES.] - - * * * * * - - ALTHOUGH the printing presses at Beirut are working - night and day they cannot supply the demand for the - Arabic Bible. - - - - -EDMUND SPENSER. - -(_English Literature Papers._) - - -JUST three hundred years ago, and just one hundred years after Columbus -discovered America and planted his flag on San Salvador, there stood in -the middle of a wide, boggy Irish plain a building better than most of -those anywhere near it, called Kilcolman Castle. It was a time when the -English Government was having a hard time to keep the Irish under their -control, and we shall see after a while how the poor people of the -castle suffered on account of this fact. But there lived at Kilcolman, -in those days from 1586 to 1598, one of the most celebrated of the -poets about whom we shall talk in our English Literature Papers. It was -Edmund Spenser, and the old picture of him that has come down to us -shows him to be a kind, gentle looking man, with a long thin nose and -a high forehead, dressed in a black robe, and with a great lace collar -coming up above his ears, which must have been very uncomfortable in -warm weather. - -Spenser was born in a part of London called East Smithfield, right -under the shadow of the great Tower; and it is a very disagreeable -fact to one who is trying to write about him, that we know almost -nothing about the little events of his life, and especially of his -boyhood. Three hundred years ago, you know, people did not take notes -of themselves so much as we do nowadays, or as they did even in the -last century; or if they did they have not been kept for us. Just a few -people have told us anything about Edmund Spenser, and the probability -is that even his picture is not any better than many of those which we -see nowadays in the newspapers. - -One of the few things which we find about him was that he entered -one of the colleges at Cambridge when he was seventeen, as what was -then called a “sizar.” These sizars were the poorer students, who had -to work for their living in a much more disagreeable way than any -students do now, by waiting on the older and richer ones at their -meals and elsewhere, and were paid by their tuition in the college and -the fragments of food which their employers left for them. I suppose -if the student on whom Edmund Spenser waited could come back to earth -for a little while he would be considerably surprised and perplexed to -find that the only reason why the world would like to know more about -him would be on account of the little sizar whom he used to have at -Cambridge! - -When he had left college, in which we find that he was a very good -scholar, Spenser taught for a while in the northern part of England, -and began to write the first poetry which made him at all famous; it -was a long poem in twelve parts, about the twelve months of the year, -and he called it at first “The Poet’s Year,” and afterward the name -by which we know it, “The Shepherd’s Calendar.” It was a very pretty -poem, and described the scenery and the country life of England in a -way that made all good Englishmen like the author. So Spenser fell in -with some good friends, and was introduced to Queen Elizabeth. It is a -curious thing that in those days the best writers did not depend for -their payment upon the number of books which were sold, or what their -publishers paid them; but it was the custom of the king or queen, -whenever an especially good writer appeared, to support him at the -royal court or elsewhere, in return for which the writer served his -sovereign in any way he could, especially by paying him any number -of compliments in his writings. It is as though whenever a promising -young author should appear in New York or Boston, he should find a -Congressman who would introduce him to the President at Washington; and -if he found that he was likely to be a pleasing writer and a convenient -friend to have near him, he should invite him to stay in the city, and -should see that he had all the money he needed. - -[Illustration: THE AUTHOR OF THE FAERY QUEENE.] - -But we shall be sorry to find that although Queen Elizabeth received -Spenser very pleasantly, and although he paid her any number of pretty -compliments in his after life, she never did very much for him. The -first piece of good fortune which seemed to come to him was when he was -appointed secretary to Lord Grey de Wilton, who was the Governor of -Ireland. After that he was also given Kilcolman Castle, which we spoke -of at the beginning, where he spent so many years. We shall see that -he did a good deal of writing while there, and also acted as the agent -of the English Government, in looking after whatever matters needed -his attention. It was this that probably made the Irishmen dislike -him, rather than any one thing which he did, for when he had been -there twelve years there was a rebellion among them, and they burned -the castle and forced the poet to run away to England. The saddest -thing about it was that his baby was burned at the same time, and they -tell us that the lonely father never recovered from his sorrow over -this event. At any rate he died the next year in London, in a small -lodging-house, and probably with very little money left. It was with -him as with so many, many others, both in those days and now: the -people did not begin to think enough of him until he was dead, and then -they gave him a magnificent funeral, and buried him in Westminster -Abbey, where the graves of all the greatest Englishmen are. - -We know nothing but what is good about Edmund Spenser; he seems to have -been a kind man, loving everything true and beautiful, and when we -have a chance to read his writings we shall feel certain that this is -so. Besides the “Shepherd’s Calendar” he wrote a book in prose about -Ireland while he was there, and it was also at Kilcolman Castle that -his great poem, “The Faery Queene,” or as we should say “The Fairy -Queen,” was written. This is a long, long poem, and was planned to -be written in twelve parts, but it is probable that only six of them -were ever finished. At any rate that is all which has come down to us; -and some one has said that in this work “the half is better than the -whole,” meaning that although Spenser wrote six very nice books, he -could scarcely have written six more anywhere nearly so good. - -The “Fairy Queen” is what people call an allegory; those of us who have -read “The Pilgrim’s Progress” have probably found out what is meant by -that. In allegories the story seems to be about real people, but all -the time the people stand for good or bad qualities, or something of -that sort—like Christian and Mr. Greatheart, or the Fairy Queen and the -Red Cross Knight. If we look in Webster’s Dictionary under “allegory,” -we shall find that the “Pilgrim’s Progress” and “The Faery Queene” are -spoken of as the most celebrated examples. - -I am sorry to say that we shall find the “Faery Queene” rather hard -reading; not because the story is not interesting, but because there -were so many good English words in those days that we have forgotten -all about now. Then the spelling, as we have already guessed from the -name of the poem, seems more like one of our PANSY “Queer Stories” than -anything else. We will try to read just one very pretty verse, at the -beginning of the second Canto, which describes the sunrise. Spenser put -quaint little rhymed headings at the top of his cantos; the one here is— - - “The guilefull great Enchaunter parts - The Redcrosse Knight from Truth: - Into whose stead faire Falshood steps, - And workes him woefull ruth.” - -In reading the description of the sunrise we shall want to remember -that there was an old story that the sun was a golden wagon driven -up the sky by the god Phœbus, and also that “chanticleer,” or -“chaunticlere,” was the old-fashioned word for rooster. Here is the -verse, and we will bid Spenser good-by with it: - - “By this the northerne wagoner had set - His sevenfold teme behind the stedfast starre - That was in ocean waves yet never wet, - But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre - To all that in the wide deepe wandring arre: - And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrill - Had warned once that Phœbus’ fiery carre - In hast was climbing up the easterne hill, - Full envious that night so long his roome did fill.” - ELIZABETH ABBOTT. - - * * * * * - -AN Englishman visiting Sweden and noticing their care for children, who -were gathered up from the streets and highways and placed in school, -inquired if it was not costly. “Yes,” was the answer, “it is costly, -but not dear. We are not rich enough to allow a child to grow up in -ignorance, misery and crime, to become a scourge to society as well as -a disgrace to himself.” - - - - -A COMING RULER. - - -THE little fellow at the left of the man on a big dark horse, is the -one for you to study. He looks like a prince already. He certainly -rides like a soldier. - -What is the color of his eyes, the shape of his nose, or the kind of -clothes on his back, and many more such things you would like to know. -Perhaps you will know these and many more things about him when you see -him in Boston, New York, San Francisco or at the Chicago World’s Fair. - -[Illustration: A STATELY RIDER.] - -“Will he be there?” - -As likely as not. - -“But who is he?” - -Ah! now you ask something. He is Master Friedrich Wilhelm, the Crown -Prince of Germany. If he live long enough, he will do something more -than hold the reins of that pretty, proud white pony; he will hold the -reins of Prussia, one of the most powerful nations of Europe. - -His grandfather, Emperor William, died a few years ago, at a great age, -greatly beloved by all Germans, and respected by other nations. - -That man, sitting in the carriage, dressed like a soldier, with folded -arms and a stern look on his face, is the present Emperor William. - -There is the mother, the Empress, with the other children. Their faces -are all turned toward you, so you can get a good look at them. But you -need not expect to see so many princes and princesses at Chicago. - -It is the fashion nowadays for kings, rulers and coming rulers to visit -other lands. Which of our presidents went around the world? - - L. - - * * * * * - -IT is said that the native Christians in Japan, with less than -one shilling a day as an average for wages, contributed last year -twenty-five thousand dollars to mission work. - -[Illustration: JUST MOVED IN.] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -BABY’S CORNER. - -ROSY POSY. - - -AT last July came, and Rose went to grandpapa’s to stay a week. - -She loved to go to the farm, because grandmamma let her work. - -Rose could shell peas and sweep the floor with a pretty little broom. -She took up the dust on a bright new dust-pan. - -[Illustration] - -The first day she went out in the field with grandpapa and raked hay. - -Then she took a little watering-pot and wet the flowers. - -[Illustration] - -By and by Grandmamma put the kettle on to boil. - -“Now we will get supper,” she said. - -[Illustration] - -She spread a white cloth on the table, and Rose put on the cups and -plates and spoons and knives and forks. - -[Illustration] - -They had apples and cream for supper. - -When the clock struck eight Grandmamma lighted a candle and went -upstairs with Rose to put her to bed. - -[Illustration] - -Grandpapa said, “Good-night, dear Rosy Posy.” - -Rose lay still as a mouse, and soon she was fast asleep. - -[Illustration] - -In the morning when Rose opened her eyes the sun was shining in at the -window. There was a big fly buzzing about trying to warm himself in the -sunlight. Rose liked to watch him. - -[Illustration] - -And then a funny voice cried out: “Get up, Rosy Posy.” - -It was Poll. Grandpapa had taught her to say it. - - MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON. - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE HARD TEXT. - -(_Matt._ xiv. 1-10.) - - -HEROD seemed to think one must keep a promise, no matter what it is, -so he put good, honest John the Baptist to death! One reason he gave -was because of what his guests would say. But how did he know but they -would say it was right for him to break such a bad promise? But why did -he not think: “What will people all the coming years say to this wicked -deed? What will the angels say? What will the holy mighty God say?” - -“But shouldn’t one keep his promises?” - -You see Herod should not in this case. Suppose the girl had said: “Give -me your crown,” or “Let me cut your head or tongue off,” how then about -Mr. Herod’s keeping his promise? Guess he would have found a way—not to -keep his oath. - -No, it is never right to keep a wrong promise. That would be doing two -wrong things instead of one. Herod had no business to take such an -oath. How could he know what this artful dancer might ask? No one may -make a promise about which one cannot know. - -Don’t ever do such a thing. - -“If you have done it?” Break it. Break it, and repent over your -rashness. Beware of the state of your mind when you make a pledge. See -that you know what you are about. - -Perhaps Herod would never have taken such an awful oath had he not -been intoxicated with wine and this dancing girl. “When wine is in wit -is out.” Many a person has lost his reason and committed some great -crime by being in such society. Wine and dancing never helped any one -heavenward. - -Take care! - - L. - - * * * * * - - MANY blessings will occur to him who is in search of - them. Let us dwell lovingly and gratefully upon these; - let us weigh and consider how to make the most of them, - by neglecting no opportunity and shutting out nothing - from our life that can brighten and invigorate it. - - - - -ANGIE’S CROSS.—II. - -(_Character Studies._) - - -I WAS sorry for the mother. I heard her gentle, troubled voice in -the hall, trying to make explanations. “Not going!” was the startled -response of the girls; “what is the matter? O, dear me! what shall we -do without her? Celia Lewis might sing the part if she had only known; -but she thought she wouldn’t be needed, and she isn’t feeling very -well, so she didn’t come out. Dear Mrs. Conran, cannot you coax Angie -to come? I am afraid we shall have to give up the anthem altogether if -you don’t. Harold says he cannot sing it without having one rehearsal.” - -“I am very sorry,” said gentle Mrs. Conran, “but I am afraid it is -quite out of the question, Angie is so sure she cannot go to-night. -Perhaps you can arrange a rehearsal early in the morning?” - -“No, ma’am, we can’t do that, because the Bible classes occupy the -room, you know, until the last minute. O, dear! how I wish we had known -it before. I don’t know what we shall do. Is Angie feeling very ill, -Mrs. Conran?” - -“N-o,” said the mother hesitatingly, and I knew that her face flushed -to her temples; “she isn’t sick, but she is very much—out of sorts. I -regret it exceedingly, but you know how Angie is. When she once settles -in her own mind that she can’t do a thing it doesn’t seem possible for -her to get the consent of her will to do it.” - -“Well,” they said, turning away, “it seems too bad, when Dr. Brand -asked for that particular anthem, and Angie is the only one who has -sung it; but I suppose we shall manage some way. Good-evening.” - -Mrs. Conran closed the door after them and came slowly back to the -parlor, I, meantime, wishing there had been some excuse for me to slip -away, so that she need not have the embarrassment of meeting me. There -was a weary attempt at a smile on her face, which had grown pale -again, and she said apologetically: - -“Poor Angie! she is the victim of her own strong will. I sometimes feel -very sorry that she matured in some things so early; she has an idea -that her mother does not know what is suitable for young people to -wear, and is growing a little too fond of dress, I am afraid. She has -been put forward so much in her music that it has injured her. It seems -strange that a sweet voice should lead one into temptation, doesn’t it?” - -I murmured something about girls being fond of their own way and about -their having to learn by experience, the more to give the mother a -chance to recover herself than because I felt that I had anything worth -saying. I do not think she heard all I said, but the words “learn by -experience” caught her attention. - -“Yes,” she said, after a moment, speaking with a long-drawn sigh, “that -is it. Poor child! she must learn by experience, and experience is a -bitter teacher sometimes. Often, when I hear her sweet voice roll out -on those solemn words: - - “‘Nearer, my God, to thee, - . . . . . . - E’en though it be a cross - That leadeth me,’ - -I wonder what the ‘cross’ will be that will lead Angie to think less -of her own will and more of Christ. She is so strong-willed, so -passionate, and has such a way of giving vent to the thoughts that come -into her mind at the moment, without stopping to realize how they will -sound. - -“In some way the child must be taught. It seems to me I have tried -hard to teach her, but I have failed. I do not often speak in this way -of her,” she added, with a sad smile; “I do not like to talk about -her faults before any one, but to-night you heard all the talk, and I -want you to understand that her words do not mean all they seem to. -She would be startled and frightened at herself if she could have them -photographed in some way and spread out before her. - -“But every exhibition of this kind only proves to me more clearly that -she is in need of a solemn lesson, and I do not know how it is coming. - - “‘Though like a wanderer, - Daylight all gone, - Darkness be over me, - My rest a stone.’ - -“It makes my heart ache sometimes to hear her sing those words, because -I cannot help wondering if she must have the ‘darkness’ and the ‘stone’ -to bring her to the true Light.” - -I did not know what to say to the pale mother, so I said nothing; but -as I thought of her unnatural pallor, in sharp contrast with the two -burning spots on her wasted cheeks, and remembered how constantly that -little cough annoyed her, I felt sorry for Angie. I thought I could see -the way in which the “cross” must come. - -I could feel how much heavier she was making it for herself; because -some day, perhaps soon, her memory would recall with bitter tears the -harsh, cruel words she had spoken to her mother, absorbed as she was in -the eager desire to have her own way. If she would only consent to be -led “nearer” by a pleasanter path! - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - - - - -THINGS WHICH SOME PEOPLE REGRET. - - -NOW we have something unique. Read the “Regrets” over carefully, and -you will discover that we have had nothing like this. You recognize the -writer, I presume, as an author who has interested a great many people. -Let us hope that he will never have occasion to regret the regret which -he has so kindly given us. - - “I have regrets for the past, of course; but I have - rarely expressed regrets without afterward regretting - that I had expressed them.” - - Yours truly, - GEORGE W. CABLE. - -[Illustration: WHO’S AFRAID?] - - - - -THE FIRST FLAG. - - -WOULD the Pansies like to see a picture of the first United States flag -which ever floated from a vessel? Count the stars. Why do you suppose -there are only twelve, when everybody knows that thirteen was the -original number? The explanation is said to be that at the time this -particular flag was made—that is in 1779—the Legislature of Maryland -had not yet formally joined the Union, so her star was omitted. - -The flag was made by some Philadelphia ladies, and presented to Captain -Jones. For a time it sailed proudly up and down the Schuylkill, fresh -and beautiful. Then it went to war, and was shot and fell into the -sea. A young lieutenant, Stafford by name, jumped overboard to save -the flag. When it fell the British thought the Yankees had “struck -their colors,” but in a little time it waved aloft again, trimmed with -bullet holes. You must read in our United States history about the -great victory which Captain Jones and his brave vessel, the _Bonhomme -Richard_, gained at that time. - -When the war was over the flag was sent to Lieutenant Stafford as -a memento of his faithfulness and bravery. It has been kept in the -Stafford family ever since, although they have been urged many times to -sell it, and as many as three thousand dollars have been offered for it. - -When the lieutenant’s daughter Sarah died the old flag was draped -about her coffin. When President Harrison was inaugurated it came -to Washington, and was carried by one of the Stafford family in the -procession. - -We show you, also, the picture of Mrs. James Bayard Stafford, the wife -of the lieutenant. She was over eighty years old when this picture was -taken, but the face shows a sweet brave woman, strong for the right -and the true, which was the character she bore. I do not know whether -she is still living, but a few years ago she was the light of the home -in Cottage City, Mass., and guarded the old historic flag as a sacred -relic. - - PANSY. - - * * * * * - -AN Indian arrow is quite a work of art. The head, or point, is made -from a barrel hoop about three inches long, tapered to a point, -and sharpened on both sides. In a bunch of arrows these points are -absolutely uniform. The shaft is made of ash about twenty-three inches -long. The feathers are glued on and lashed at each end with sinew. The -head or point is inserted in the wood, and also lashed with sinew. -And running along the arrow are three wave-like grooves from the head -to the feathers. This, the Indians explain, is to make the arrow go -straight. The bow is also made of ash, and with a string of twisted -sinew taken from along the back of a beef. So that with an ordinary -butcher knife and a file, if it is to be had, an Indian can make his -own arms. - -[Illustration: PAUL JONES’S “STARRY FLAG.”] - -The penetrating force of an arrow is wonderful. An Indian can shoot an -arrow right through a buffalo. I have heard it stated that bows and -arrows would be much more effective weapons in the hands of Indians -than such guns as they surrendered to General Miles.—_Selected._ - -[Illustration: AN UNWELCOME BILL.] - - - - -ABOUT BUFFALO. - -BY THE PANSIES. - - -I HAVE been waiting for the time to come to write about Buffalo, -because I knew something queer to write. Three of the nice streets -there are named Niagara St., Erie St., and Church St.; but their names -used to be Schimmelpennick Avenue, Vollenhoven Avenue and Stadnitski -Avenue! Isn’t it a good thing they were changed? - - MARGARET L. JOHNSON. - - * * * * * - -THE Indian name for Buffalo is Teosahway. I think it is much prettier -than Buffalo. Some people say the city was named for an old Indian -chief who lived in a hut in the center of where the main business part -is now located; the Indian’s name was Buffaloe. But others think it was -named after the “creek,” where the buffaloes used to come in droves. - - HENRY RICE. - - * * * * * - -THE city of Buffalo used to be spelled with an _e_, and the citizens -had a great time getting rid of that final _e_. Father says that years -after it had been dropped the city of Binghamton, N. Y., which used to -be spelled “Binghampton,” set to work to get rid of that unnecessary -_p_. Buffalo, forgetting the trouble it had had, was the last to -remember the change; long after others were pretty well educated, the -Buffalo postmaster would send the Binghamton mail in a package marked -“Bingham_p_ton.” At last the Binghamton postmaster made up a package -for Buffalo and addressed it in very large letters, “Buffalop,” then -wrote underneath: “If you are so fond of the letter _p_ take it.” -Father says he believes this cured them. - - SARAH H. ATCHISON. - - * * * * * - -MY grandmother used to live in Buffalo when the water supply was very -different from what it is now. There used to be an old man whom they -called “Water John.” He had a cart and an old horse, and he used to -fill a hogshead with water at the lake, and go through the streets -peddling it for a shilling a barrel. A shilling was twelve and a half -cents. Grandmother says they always used to have to give Water John -thirteen cents; and I don’t see why they did not call it thirteen cents -a barrel, instead of a price which nobody could exactly pay. - - LAURA HOLMAN. - - * * * * * - -I HAD a great-uncle who used to live in Buffalo when there were only -about forty houses there, all built of logs; and I have an uncle living -in Buffalo now who went there in 1825, when there were about two -thousand inhabitants, and has seen it grow to its present size—about -two hundred and fifty thousand; some say more than that. It must be a -great thing to be able to look back on such changes. - - JAMES CAMPBELL. - - * * * * * - -MY grandmother went to Buffalo when she was a little girl and took a -ride on the “Black Rock Railroad”; that was what they called it, but -it was just a street car. Grandmother thinks it was the first horse -railroad used in this country. There was a car for pleasant weather -and one for storms. The pleasant weather one was like a great box, -with an outside seat for the driver. The seats were just boards with -straight backs. There was no cover, and the sun could pelt down on you -as much as it pleased. For bad weather they had one with a top, and -canvas curtains that buttoned down. The car was drawn by one horse, and -Grandmother says they did not use any time table, but came along just -whenever it happened. The fare was a shilling. - - LUCY STEVENSON. - - * * * * * - -IT is great fun to read about Buffalo as it used to be. I was there -last summer and stopped at an elegant hotel. I forget its name, but -I know they said it was the handsomest in the city, and it was just -splendid, I tell you! A little while after I came home I read about -“The Farmers’ Hotel,” which was the grand hotel of Buffalo in 1832. -I saw a picture of it; the queerest looking little old building you -ever saw, with a bell on the top like a great cow bell; it was rung by -a rope, and that is the way people used to be called to their meals. -The book I was reading said it was a very useful bell, for it not only -told when breakfast or dinner was ready at the Farmers’ Hotel, but was -useful as a time-keeper in every house in the neighborhood; for there -were very few people indeed in those days who carried watches, and -clocks were very rare and costly. - - REUBEN S. BENTON. - - * * * * * - -I HAVE a letter which was written to my grandmother in 1836, by a lady -who lived in Buffalo. Grandmother lived in New York, and the amount of -postage which it took to carry the letter from Buffalo to New York was -two shillings. This was marked in red ink on the outside of the letter; -not on an envelope, for none were used, but one side of the paper was -left blank, and the letter was folded in a curious way, and marked -“Paid 2 s.” Grandmother said her sister in Albany used to get letters -from the same lady, and hers were marked: “Paid 18¾.” At that time it -cost less to write from Buffalo to Albany than it did from Buffalo to -New York; and I must say that seems reasonable. Why should letters be -two cents now, whether they travel ten miles or a thousand? But I am -glad they are not twenty-five cents. - - CARRIE FOSTER. - - * * * * * - -BUFFALO is a great city. You can start from it and go anywhere you want -to, at most any hour of the day or night. There are as many as thirteen -different railroad lines to choose from, to say nothing of steamboats -and all that sort of thing. But it is the queerest laid out city in -this country. A man Ellicott planned it almost a century ago, and meant -to build a palace for himself right in the center, but he never did. - - JOHN JONES. - - * * * * * - -MOTHER says I ought to be able to write you a letter about Buffalo, -because I’ve been there lots of times. But I can’t. What is there to -write about a city, I should like to know? They are all alike; great -long streets with big houses on both sides, or big stores or something, -and churches every little way, and crowds of people in the streets -getting in a fellow’s way all the time, and carts running over you, -and carriages that you want to take a ride in and can’t; and an awful -noise and smoke and hurly-burly. I’d rather spend one afternoon in -the country in an apple orchard or a strawberry field, or by a trout -stream, than to be a whole week in any city I ever saw. Buffalo has -some splendid-looking houses and parks, and there is a lunatic asylum -that I was interested in, because the people acted so queer. I don’t -like Buffalo, however, nor any other big place. - - TOM HURST. - - * * * * * - -I THINK they must make flour enough in Buffalo to supply the world -with bread. My father says that twelve years ago there were eleven -great flouring mills there, and he doesn’t know how many more have been -started since. At that time they made every year about two hundred and -fifty thousand barrels of flour; but dear me! it would take more flour -than that to feed the world, wouldn’t it? What a lot of things we do -have to eat! - - JIMMIE TUCKER. - - * * * * * - -I SHOULD think Buffalo would be called the “City of Churches.” There -must be hundreds of churches there. I went with my uncle and brother to -look at different ones, and it took us two days just to see those which -were on three streets of the city. Some of them are lovely, and some -were great, dark-looking buildings, like jails. - - LUCY STONE. - - * * * * * - - [On the whole we consider these Buffalo letters - decidedly unique. A little ahead of anything in that - line which the Pansies have yet given us. Certainly - some rather original ideas in regard to cities in - general have been advanced, and we have been given a - better chance than usual to mark the progress which - time has made. We are somewhat surprised that no one - has described a ride to or from the city on one of the - canal packets. That is a vivid memory of our childhood - which we would like to tell you about were there time. - - Our material is as usual not exhausted, but our space - is. I presume Buffalo will fare like the cities which - have preceded it—that is, some of the best letters will - come too late to use. If our Pansies could only learn - to start three months ahead!—EDITORS.] - - - - -MAJOR’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY. - -V. - - -THIS is a beautiful moonlight evening, but you would rather listen to -me than bark at the moon? - -All right; I don’t mind talking when I have good listeners, but to try -to tell a story and be constantly reminded that those to whom you talk -are thinking of something else, is not pleasant. - -What shall I talk about to-night? - -“Something concerning our relatives away back?” - -So you want to know what kind of blood there is in our veins? That is -an interesting theme for some, and why not for us? - -It is not three days since I heard our master boast that he had -descended from the Pilgrim Fathers. We do not all claim to be related, -but we are of one family now, and so interested in each other. - -I like to think that some of my relatives have done good and -been faithful; so I think I will tell you what one of my -great-great-great-uncles did a long time ago. - -His name was Sport, and at the time to which I refer he lived with a -man by the name of Stillman. He was thought much of for hunting, and -because of his skill in this direction he had a chance to earn the -reputation which so many envied; that is, to earn it in just the way he -did. - -I want my young friends to remember that the way is always open for -any dog to get a good name if he will only try. Why, even a little -insignificant poodle can be of use. There is our neighbor, Mr. Fellows; -he had two or three dog sentinels all about his place, and the other -night a man got clear to his front door, and none of these big fellows -said or knew any thing of it; but the moment the man reached the door -little Tip, the poodle, notified the whole house. - -Well, this dog Sport was taken by his master, one fall, away off into -the wood. They went miles and miles beyond where anybody pretended -to live, and there in a little hut they staid for days and days, the -master hunting and fishing and resting. - -This was all well enough so long as nothing unusual occurred, though -it was pretty lonesome for the four-footed one. The master seemed to -take it for granted that his dog knew nothing but how to follow game, -so said little to him, sometimes hardly noticing him from morning till -night. - -As I said, matters moved on very well for a time, but there came a -change. Mr. Stillman awoke one night feeling very ill, and by morning -was sick enough. - -He took such medicine as he had, but grew worse and worse. The poor man -could not sit up to write, and if he could have written, who would be -mail carrier for him? - -He lay there and thought, and tried to plan. “If I only had a St. -Bernard dog I might send him for help; but Sport is nothing but a -hunting dog, and he cannot understand anything but how to follow a -track.” - -In the meantime Sport was feeling badly, and trying to think what he -might do, for his master was getting worse all the time. Walking around -the room he saw an envelope with something in it, and while his master -was seemingly asleep, he took the package in his mouth and started upon -the run in the direction in which they came into the woods. - -He made pretty fast time for eight or ten miles; then he came to a -trail, and knew a party had passed there not long before. So, putting -his nose to the ground, he soon learned which way they had gone, and -followed them at good speed. - -Fortunately he came upon them where they had encamped for the night. It -proved to be quite a large party with an experienced guide. - -Sport dashed in among them and laid down his package and barked, to -call their attention to it. The men examined the writing, and while it -did not tell them how it was sent—it not having been sent—it seemed to -be an attempt of some one to leave on record the condition he was in, -his name and address, so that if he should die, any one finding this -might be able to inform his friends. - -No one of those who first composed the party knew what to think of the -paper, for there was little of it which could be read, more than the -name; but the guide was not long in interpreting Sport’s meaning, and -told them that the faithful dog had without doubt come from some one in -distress, and that they must try to find him. - -“If I don’t miss my guess by a shot or two this four-legged -mail-carrier will be dreadful glad to pilot us back the way he came; -won’t you, old fellow?” - -Sport showed his readiness by jumping up and starting; but -Simpkins—that was the guide’s name—called him back, patted him on the -head, and gave him something to eat, promising to go with him pretty -soon. - -[Illustration: SPORT BEFRIENDS HIS MASTER.] - -The guide told the party to remain there, all but one or two, till -he should return. One of their number was a doctor, who was taking -his vacation, and he volunteered to be one of the company to make the -search for the supposed sufferer. Although all had believed themselves -to be tired, yet they were soon off, Sport taking the lead, and so -eager that he let his followers only just keep in sight. It was dark -some time before the little hut was reached. - -When the men told the story afterward, they said it was a great wonder -they kept on following a dog in that way, though the guide never -hesitated; and the men probably preferred following him to being left -alone. - -As they neared the place on the main trail, Sport would run ahead and -bark, and then come back to the guide and whine. - -Well, they got to the hut at last, and it appeared as though the sick -man had not moved while his faithful friend was gone; and what is more, -the doctor said he never would have moved if help had not come. - -The men rubbed him and gave him medicine, and towards morning he opened -his eyes. It took him a little while to make out what it all meant, but -when Sport heard his voice he sprang to his side, and seemed wild with -delight. - -There is a great deal more to this story which I will not take time to -tell. The doctor tried hard to buy Sport after that, but his master -said he would sooner let him have one of his hands; he kept him until -he died of old age. - -Before he died Mr. Stillman had his picture painted by a fine artist. -Master and dog have been dead for years, but I have seen both their -pictures, made by the same man. Saw them often when I was little. Our -folks used to tell the story to people who visited them, and then -point to me and say: “This little fellow is related to that noble dog, -and we hope he will be like him.” Then I would be so proud of the -relationship, and resolve to be just as good if I could not be as smart. - -Now it is time to look around and see that everything is all right. If -they have not forgotten to shut the hen-house door, we can take our -places as usual till morning. - -No, I never had such a chance as old Uncle Sport had for making a name, -but I have done what I could, and my master is not slow to show that he -loves me. - - R. - - - - -JACK’S DECISION. - - -JACK was in a very doleful frame of mind. It was Sabbath morning, and -as bright a day as even July could furnish to that part of the world. -The birds in the trees, the leaves as they rustled, and the sweet -odors in the air, all seemed to whisper that it was a perfect Sunday. -Jack wanted to go to church. Not that he was devoted to church-going, -either. The sermon often seemed long to him, and he sometimes grew very -tired of counting the bits of stained glass of which the large round -window was made; but on this particular morning, as he sat curled up -in the large armchair with a great pillow at his back, he made himself -believe that there was nothing in life he wanted so much as to go to -church that day. It was not simply that the new carriage was to be used -for the first time, and that Prince and Tony were harnessed together -before it, and would look splendid, but in addition to these excellent -reasons Jack had not been out of the house for nearly a week, and had -not had a ride since last Sabbath, and it seemed to him he should fly -if he had to stay in much longer. But then, Jack had the mumps, so it -couldn’t be helped. - -Uncle Jack was to stay with him; or rather he was to stay with Uncle -Jack, which was pleasant, for although this favorite uncle always staid -at home on Sundays, and could not take a single step without somebody -on either side to help, yet his nephew considered him the “jolliest -kind of a companion.” This may have been partly owing to the fact -that Jack the uncle was quite young to have that title—only a boy of -twenty—and he was as sunshiny, in fact more so than many boys of ten -contrive to be. - -On this particular day he exerted himself to his utmost to entertain -his namesake, and succeeded so well that when the clock struck twelve -the boy said, in round-eyed wonder: “Why, who would have thought it was -so late? They will be home in a little while, won’t they?” - -“That’s a fact,” said Uncle Jack. “I think there will be just time for -us to have our Bible story together, and a little talk about it before -they come. You know that was to finish the morning’s programme, Jack.” - -“All right,” said Jack, settling back on his pillow, “go ahead; I like -to hear you read the Bible better than anybody else, except mother, of -course.” - -This was no wonder, for Uncle Jack had a way of reading between the -lines, something after this fashion: “‘And a certain man, lame from his -mother’s womb, was carried.’ Just think of that, my boy! Forty years -old, and never had walked a step! That is worse than being lame for two -years, isn’t it?” - -“How do you know he was forty years old? It doesn’t say so.” - -“It does in another place; I hunted it up once, to see how long he had -been a burden on his friends. And just listen to this as the best they -could do for him: ‘Whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple, -which is called Beautiful, to ask alms of them that entered into the -temple.’” - -“They were a mean lot,” said Jack; “they might have kept him at home -and taken care of him.” - -“Ah, my boy! that is much the way it is to-day in countries where Jesus -Christ does not reign; still, we must not be too hard on these friends -of his; they may have been miserably poor, and to carry the man to -the gate and leave him there may have been the utmost that was in their -power to give.” - -[Illustration: DOLEFUL JACK.—(_See “Jack’s Decision.”_)] - -“Then they ought to have taken him to the hospital.” - -“There was none, Jackie. No provision whatever was made in that country -for the suffering poor; such things belong to Christianity. Well, ‘Who, -seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, asked an alms.’ He -liked the appearance of those ministers, I fancy. I suppose he said, -‘They look kind, and I shouldn’t wonder if they would give me quite a -lift.’” - -“I should say they did,” chuckled Jack, who knew the outcome of the -story. Reading in this way you can see how long it might take them to -get through with even a short story; but Jack thought it a “tip-top” -way to read. - -He sat lost in thought for some minutes after the lame man had gone -leaping into the temple, then said, half-doubtfully, as though not sure -whether it were just the proper thing to say: “Uncle Jack, wouldn’t it -be a splendid thing if Peter were alive now, and should come home from -church with the folks, and cure you so you could run all around?” - -Uncle Jack turned bright smiling eyes on his nephew. “You forget,” he -said briskly; “it wasn’t Peter who did it; he was only the instrument. -You might as well call the cup in which you take your beef tea the -food, as to call Peter the physician in this case.” - -“Well, then,” said Jack, looking resolute, “I don’t understand why he -doesn’t cure folks now—Jesus, I mean. People say he is here all the -time, though we can’t see him, and that he is just the same as ever he -was; why don’t he cure you, Uncle Jack, just as he cured the man at the -temple gate?” - -“He has,” said Uncle Jack promptly; “He has performed a much greater -cure for me than He did for the man at the gate.” - -And then Jack looked astounded. As though he did not know that his -Uncle Jack had not taken a step in two years, and even the great -surgeon from the city could not be sure if he ever would. - -The gay young uncle laughed over his astonishment, then said: “I see I -shall have to tell you something, Jackie. Before I was hurt I was in a -bad way—lame not only in my feet, but in my will power, which is much -worse. I was making a headlong rush toward ruin, and when the accident -happened which laid me flat on my back, I knew before many weeks that -it was Jesus Christ trying to cure me.” - -Little Jack stared. “Couldn’t He have done it without that?” he asked. - -“No,” said his uncle confidently; “I don’t believe He could. I wouldn’t -let Him, you see. He had called me hundreds of times, and urged me to -let Him do the best things for me, but I wouldn’t. My will power, as I -told you, was lame, sick—deathly sick; I couldn’t seem to want to be -cured, nor to do any of my part of the work. There is always our part -to do in a cure, you know.” Jack nodded, and remembered the bitter -medicine which he had rebelled against swallowing. “Well, I wouldn’t do -my part; refused out and out, and kept on refusing until I was placed -on my back. I suppose the Lord Jesus knew that that only would bring me -to my senses, and give him a chance to cure my heart sickness, so he -let it come to me. Understand?” - -Jack was not disposed to answer. He was thinking. “Why doesn’t He cure -your back now?” he asked, speaking part of his thought. - -His uncle’s voice was a trifle lower, and hinted at strong feeling -which was being controlled. “I believe he will, Jackie, just as soon as -it is best for me to be cured. I think I am going to get quite well; -indeed, I may say I am almost sure of it, though the surgeon is not. I -believe the Lord Jesus has decided to let me be well and strong again, -so I can be a witness for him, as the lame man was, you remember. Why, -we didn’t finish the story, did we? And there is no time now. Here -come the people from church. You look that up, Jackie, in your Bible -sometime, and see what an unanswerable argument the man was.” - -Jack the younger thought over the entire story later, while he was -eating his beef tea. Thought and thought, and by a way which was clear -to himself, came at last to this point: “I wonder if He let me have the -mumps so as to stop me from doing different from what mother says? If -I hadn’t thought it wouldn’t do any harm to run into Judge Howell’s a -few minutes, even after she had told me not to stop anywhere, why, I -suppose I shouldn’t have had these horrid old mumps. Maybe He knows it -was the only way to cure me. Well, I tell you what it is; I believe -I’ll be cured. I guess, after this, I’ll do just exactly as I’m told, -and be a ‘witness’ myself, so that folks will begin to say of me: ‘Jack -Campbell won’t do it; his folks told him not to, and you can’t move -Jack after that any more than you could a stone wall.’ I declare, that -will be tip-top fun. I’ll do it!” - - PANSY. - -[Illustration: JACK THOUGHT AND THOUGHT.] - -[Illustration: MY PRETTY DEER.] - -[Illustration: ONLY ONE LEFT.] - - - - -CLAUDE’S STORY. - - -CLAUDE TALMAN was ten years old. He lived in a marble house. Its floors -had costly carpets, and all the furniture was elegant. His clothes were -fine and rich; his food came from almost all parts of the world. How -soft was his bed. Tenderly was he watched over. He seemed to have more -than heart could wish—not his heart, however. - -[Illustration: CARACTACA BEGS TO BE SENT HOME.] - -One day as he looked from his elegant window he saw a poor boy passing -drawn in a little wagon by a goat; then he set up a loud cry that he -must have that very wagon and goat. It did no good for his mother to -promise him just as good an one if it could be found in the Central -Market, where almost everything could be bought. No, he must have -that. That boy must sell it to him or it must be taken from him. What -right had that poor boy to something that he (Claude) didn’t have? -His mother reasoned with him, but all to no purpose; he stormed about, -stamping his foot, saying he would have it if he had to kill the boy to -get it. When he got over his rage somewhat his mother said: “You remind -me of another Claude, only his real name was Claudius.” - -Then Master Claude quieted down and listened, for he was fond of -stories, and now he knew his mother had one for him. So she went on -thus: “Two thousand years ago there lived a large family in the country -that is now called England. Their name was Briton. They were not the -handsomest or wisest folks in the world, nor were they always gentle -among themselves. Their houses were mere huts and their dress was the -skins of wild animals. They were a brave people, but generally minded -their own business. The great father of this family—I should say one of -the big brothers—was Caractacus. He was strong and fearless, and very -wise and good in his way. When they were in trouble they went to him, -and somehow he always knew just what to do. So they thought of him just -as American people think of Washington. - -“Miles and miles away across the great waters lived another family in -an elegant marble palace”— - -“Now you are going to tell a story about me,” interrupted Claude. - -—“in an elegant marble palace. Everything without as well as within -this beautiful mansion was costly and wonderful. There was nothing just -like it on all the face of the earth. - -“But they were unhappy. They wanted something more. One day while they -were sitting and feasting, dressed in purple and fine linen, and bands -of music were playing, word came from one of their travelers about a -fair island far away, and about this Briton family who owned it, and -were living there so contentedly. - -“Then uprose the father of the Roman family—for that was their name—and -the music ceased, the feasting was over, and the men put off their -showy dress and put on their soldier clothes, and the father or big -brother, whose name was Claudius”— - -“Now, mother, more about me?” - -“His name was Claudius, and he mounted his war horse and blew a loud -blast that made the marble halls ring again, and with waving banners -and peals of music away marched this Roman family to conquer the Briton -family and make them give up their”— - -“Little wagon and goat?” - -—“give up their beautiful farm. On they went on foot and on horse and -by boats till they landed one dark night and stole up to the back yard -of the Britons. - -“Then of a sudden the dogs set up an awful barking. The Britons—women -as well as men and children—sprang up in a jiffy, and a fierce fight -followed. Sometimes the Romans got the better, sometimes the Britons; -but after a long, long time, when many were killed on both sides, six -of Claudius’ biggest brothers saw Caractacus fall, and the blood was -streaming from his side by an arrow wound, and they leaped upon him -and bound his hands behind him, and led him as best they could to -Claudius. But Caractaca, his poor wife, followed, begging the soldiers -not to harm her suffering husband. - -“When the brave Britons saw their leader fall, and knew he was now a -prisoner, their hearts failed them, and they fled, many of them, far -away into the forests. - -“But Caractacus and his sad wife were taken from their home and carried -far away to the Roman palace as prisoners. - -“Now when they looked around this grand home and saw all its richness -and glory they drew a deep sigh, Caractaca begging Claudius to send -them back to their home, the brave Caractacus only saying he did not -see why such a rich family cared for the plain hut he lived in.” - -Master Claude never again insisted upon having the little wagon and -goat. Nay, he helped him to better ones. - - L. - - - - -THE LONGEST DAY. - - -IT is quite important, when speaking of the longest day in the year, -to say what part of the world we are talking about, as will be seen -by reading the following list, which tells the length of the longest -day in several different places. How unfortunate are the children in -Tornea, Finland, where Christmas Day is less than three hours in length! - -At Stockholm, Sweden, it is eighteen and one half hours in length. At -Spitzbergen the longest day is three and one half months. At London, -England, and Bremen, Prussia, the longest day has sixteen and one half -hours. At Hamburg in Germany, and Dantzig in Prussia, the longest day -has seventeen hours. At Wardbury, Norway, the longest day lasts from -May 21 to July 22, without interruption. At St. Petersburg, Russia, and -Tobolsk, Siberia, the longest day is nineteen hours, and the shortest -five hours. At Tornea, Finland, June 21 brings a day nearly twenty-two -hours long, and Christmas one less than three hours in length. At New -York the longest day is about fifteen hours, and at Montreal, Canada, -it is sixteen.—_Selected._ - - - - -THREE YOUNG MISSIONARIES. - - -“WHO are they?” - -The one with his hat off and flag in hand—his name is Judson. The neat -little Miss, her fingers tucked in that warm muff, and her satisfied -face saying: “See what a nice big snowball we’ve made,” she is Miss -Emily Chubbuck, to be sure. The third—wouldn’t you give a penny to -see his face?—he looks like a young Scotch Highlander in plaids. He -it is who fixed up the funny mouth, nose and eyes, and is now putting -something sweeter than a nasty cigarette into his snow mouth; well, -this one is Master Carey. Now they look only like children having fun. -Not a hundred years after they became missionaries. Heard you ever of -Carey? Of Adoniram Judson? Of his wife, Emily Chubbuck? - - L. - - - - -FIRST TIME AT CHURCH. - - - A GRAVE sweet wonder in thy baby face, - And look of mingled dignity and grace, - Such as a painter hand might love to trace. - - A pair of trusting innocent blue eyes, - That higher than the stained-glass window rise, - Into the fair and cloudless summer skies. - - The people round her sing, “Above the sky - There’s rest for little children when they die.” - To her, thus gazing up, that rest seems nigh. - - The organ peals; she must not look around, - Although with wonderment her pulses bound— - The place whereon she stands is holy ground. - - The sermon over, and the blessing said, - She bows, as “mother” does, her golden head, - And thinks of little sister who is dead. - - She knows that now she dwells above the sky, - Where holy children enter when they die, - And prays God take her there too, by and by. - - Pet, may He keep you in the faith alway, - And bring you to that home for which you pray, - Where all shall have their child hearts back one day! - —_Selected._ - - - - -AN IDEA THAT GREW. - - -IT was Nancy and the book together which put the idea into Clara’s -mind. They were slipping along in the shadows of the quiet river, she -and Wallace. It was the Fourth of July, and most of the boys and girls -of the region were busy with what firecrackers they could get—those of -them who had not taken a five-mile tramp to the village to attend the -celebration. - -But Clara was too old to care for firecrackers, and Wallace had had -enough of them before he came; he was only here for a few days, -and preferred a visit with his sister to all the Fourth of July -celebrations that could be planned. She was reading aloud to him bits -from a new book which he had brought her as a birthday present; for -the Fourth of July was not only the birthday of freedom, it was also -Clara’s birthday. - -“O, Wallace!” she said, “this is a lovely book.” She had said the same -thing at least a dozen times that day. “Just see what queer ideas -she had,” Clara continued, meaning the girl in the book; “she was -very good—better than anybody I ever knew. I should think it would be -lovely to do half the nice things she did. One plan was to pick out a -friend—another girl—and try to help her in every way she could. Pray -for her, you know, and talk with her, and influence her, until at last -the girl would be converted; then they two would choose two others to -help in the same way, and they were going to see how large a circle -they could make of that kind. She thought perhaps she could reach all -around the world; she was only a young girl, and she thought if she -lived to be a woman perhaps she could. Wallace, what are you laughing -at?” - -“At the modesty of the young woman and her ideas,” said Wallace, -laughing afresh. “She hasn’t gotten around the world yet, I take it; -I’ve never seen anything of her.” - -“I am sure the idea is beautiful,” said Clara, half-inclined to be -vexed with Wallace for making sport of it. “And of course one could do -a great deal of good in that way. I would just like to try it.” - -“Why don’t you?” Wallace asked, his eyes twinkling; “I’m sure you -have a good field for work of the sort here among the natives. Look -at that specimen on the bank at this moment. Her eyes are as large as -sunflowers, and she looks as though she might take any amount of doing -good to and not be hurt by it.” - -Clara turned around and stared back at Nancy on the shore. - -A little girl with a sallow, wistful face, and great mournful-looking -eyes. She had on a worn and faded dress, an apron which was much too -long for her, but seemed to have been put on to cover the deficiencies -of the dress. She wore neither shoes nor stockings, and was hanging -tightly by the two strings to her pink gingham sunbonnet, and gazing at -the people in the boat with the most unutterable longing in her eyes -that Clara had ever seen. - -“Poor thing!” said Clara; “she envies us our row. I wonder if she never -has a chance to take a row on the river? Only see how hungry her eyes -look.” - -“It is more probable that she envies you your hat and dress,” said -Wallace; “she keeps her eyes on them. She has an eye to the beautiful, -that is what is the matter with her. I am not sure but it is your hair -she wants most, after all, though hers is arranged elaborately. She -would make an excellent beginning for your scheme, Clara.” - -“I am not sure but she would.” Wallace was teasing, but his sister was -grave and in earnest. “Row toward the shore, Wallace, and let me speak -to her; I never saw a child who had such a wistful look. - -“Good afternoon, little girl,” she said pleasantly, as Wallace obeyed -directions and the boat drew near, “are you having a pleasant Fourth of -July?” - -“No,” said the child, without hesitation or ceremony. - -“Not? I am very sorry. What has been the trouble?” - -“Nothing,” said the child, as promptly as before. Then, seeming to -consider something more necessary, added: “Nothing more than always -is. We don’t never have no pleasant times to our house.” - -“You see,” said Wallace, in low tones, nodding significantly to his -sister, “she is in perishing need of being chosen.” - -“So she is. Wallace, you are simply making fun, but I am in earnest. I -wonder what I could do for the poor little thing? I have been here for -two months, and haven’t done a thing for anybody. I have tried to get -acquainted with a few of the girls of my age, but they are shy of me; -this child does not seem to be shy.” - -“Not in the least,” said Wallace. “Very well, how shall we commence? -Shall I invite her to sail with us this afternoon as a sort of entering -wedge?” - -“Do you mean it?” Clara asked, well pleased, and she turned again to -Nancy. “Do you ever go rowing on the river?” - -“No.” - -“Why not? Would not you like to?” - -“Never had no chance. We ain’t got no boat, and nobody won’t lend us -poor folks any; and we don’t never go nowheres, me and Billy.” - -“Poor little girl! Who is Billy? your little brother? Would you like to -take a ride with us this afternoon? If you would you may come down to -the landing and get in the boat.” - -The child stared for a moment as though she felt her ears were not to -be trusted, then turned and made a dash for the landing below. Wallace -laughed and steered the boat in the same direction. A few moments more -and they were off, with the barefooted Nancy seated comfortably beside -Clara. - -It is only the very beginning of this story that I have space for. I -am wondering if you Pansies cannot sit down thoughtfully and think it -out for yourselves, perhaps write it out. The story is true, and it -happened years ago. Such a girl as Clara, who was spending a summer in -a backwoods region, for reasons which I need not stop here to explain, -and such a girl as Nancy met first in the way I have described; and in -the course of that afternoon ride Clara heard enough about the home -where they “never had no pleasant times,” to make her heart ache. The -beautiful idea in the book kept coming to her, or rather staid with her -and kept asking if she could not do something of the kind with this -Nancy. To be sure Nancy was not like the girl chosen in the book; she -had been of about the same age and station as her friend. “But then,” -said Clara to herself, “she did not need help half so much as this one -does; and I think with this kind of people I might help one younger -than myself better than one of my own age. At least I can pray for her.” - -[Illustration: ON THE QUIET RIVER.] - -Now the story for you to work out is begun, and I will give you just -a few more facts, and then jump to the end of it—that is so far as I -know it—leaving you to fill up the blank space. It was a stony, hilly, -desolate country side, where the people were very poor, and were cursed -with more rum saloons than with any other form of business; where the -nearest church was five miles away; where there was no Sunday-school, -and no day-school except for three months in the winter. And Nancy, -being questioned, showed that she not only did not know what Fourth of -July meant, but she did not know what Sunday meant in the true sense of -the word; nor did she know about Jesus Christ, save as she had heard -“Pap swear his name sometimes!” Did ever girl need helping more? - -Now for the end, so far as it can be said to be ended, for the people -are still living. Nancy is a young woman who wears the neatest of -dresses and hats, and the nicest fitting boots and gloves. She is -herself a teacher in the day-school in that part of the country where -her home has always been. The school is in session nine months of -the year. She is a teacher in the Sunday-school, which has a room -of its own, opening from the pretty church where every Sabbath day -the people gather to hear of Jesus Christ. And Nancy’s father is the -superintendent of the Sunday-school! And there is not a saloon left -within two miles of the neighborhood; and the change began that Fourth -of July afternoon, when Clara, reading from her new book, caught an -idea which grew. - -You will perhaps be glad to hear that Wallace, although he professed -to be only amused, was much more than that, and helped to form Clara’s -“circle” so effectually that he preaches in the little church whenever -he comes to this part of the world for a few weeks of vacation. “You -haven’t reached around the world yet,” he said to Clara not long ago; -“but I am not sure but you will. Do you know that boy Billy wants to be -a missionary and go to China?” - -Billy is Nancy’s youngest brother. - -Now see if you can plan ways by which Clara may have helped to bring -about such changes. No, better than that; look about you and see what -you can do to make a circle of good that shall reach—as far as it can. - - PANSY. - -[Illustration: THREE YOUNG MISSIONARIES.] - - - - -TEACHING THE CHINESE. - - -AND so you thought the Chinese do not know anything? - -Look into this school; see wise Mr. Ah Lee sitting before his thirteen -youngsters. See how bright they look. And surely they know how to -get as much fun out of a cat’s tail and get rapped over the knuckles -as hard as any American boy. Yes, they sit upon the floor, and they -don’t seem to have blackboards and maps and many other nice school -contrivances, but they manage somehow to learn one of the most -difficult languages in the world. - -[Illustration: A CHINESE SCHOOL.] - -Our poor missionaries do have such a time in mastering Chinese so they -can converse with the people and preach the Gospel to them. The trouble -is that a word may mean one of a dozen different things, just as you -happen to give it this tone (sound) or that. - -A Mr. Meadows once wished to say “bargain money” to a Chinaman. He used -the proper Chinese word for it, but pronounced it as though it meant to -the Chinaman “Do you hear? do you hear?” And what said John Chinaman? -Just nothing at all, but came nearer and nearer to Mr. Meadows, turning -one side of his head then the other to listen. - -Once Mr. Pohlman asked a Chinese family if they drank wine, but he -pronounced the word wine (_tsén_) so it sounded to them like their word -for land (_t’sēn_). - -At another time he asked a mourning family if they had buried (_tái_) -the body of their dead grandmother. But he sounded it _t’ai_, which -means to kill. Imagine their looks. - -But the missionaries work away at the queer Chinese words and tones -until they can tell the “old story” plainly—and hundreds have heard and -understood, and now believe. - -You know how hard it is for the Chinaman to speak our language. He says -“Amelican” for American, our _r_ is so difficult for him to get. - -But the time is coming when every one of God’s family will know the one -great language, and there will be no hard schoolmaster to scold or whip -it into them. - - L. - - - - -WHEN HE WAS TWELVE YEARS OLD. - - - OUR little lad, our bonnie twelve-year-old, - Has journeyed to the city of the King; - Our happy boy—ere heart could grow a-cold, - Or soul turn bitter—in youth’s joyous spring, - Went up to keep the feast in that bright place, - City of Peace, where restful mansions be; - And straightway looking on the dear King’s face, - Remembered naught but joy that face to see! - - Long time ago, when He was twelve years old, - The Holy Child climbed fair Judea’s hills, - And his young mother in her heart did hold - Strange words concerning him, whose mystery fills - Her soul with wonder.—On their homeward way, - The reverent pilgrims haste; and sorrowing - She seeks her Son, and lo, in calm delay, - He lingered in the temple of the King! - - She, coming to the sacred portal, waits - With tear-wan face; her fair first-born she seeks; - Weary and grief-worn, at the shining gates, - With faltering lips his sweet home-name she speaks, - And He is in her arms!—With tender word - Of gentlest chiding, each to each revealed - The love that to the depths of feeling stirred - Hearts that brief absence near and dearer sealed. - - O mother, mourning for thy fair first-born, - He tarries in his Father’s House of Light, - With God’s beloved; and thou in some glad morn, - Finding the glorious gates beyond the night, - Shalt breathe his name, and ere it leaves thy lips, - In thy dear arms, aglow with life and joy, - All strong and beautiful—death’s long eclipse - Forgotten in the first kiss of thy boy! - ROSA EVANGELINE ANGEL. - - * * * * * - -MISS HALSEY read a letter from Miss Patton, of India, who after wittily -describing some of the daily trials of housekeeping there, between her -rising hour, five o’clock, and that of reaching her first school, says: - -“This school, over a mile away, is upstairs in a large house in an -alley. The children looked so nice and bright this morning, I wish you -could see them. Prayers are over, so I begin by taking the wee tots in -the first class and teach them the Lord’s Prayer. Then I take class -after class until half-past nine, when with pony and queer little -two-wheeled tonga I go on about half a mile to the other school. There -I teach until nearly eleven and then drive home to breakfast, after -which we have English prayers. By that time the gun has gone off, and -that means twelve o’clock. The gun is the signal for our servants and -native Christians living near to come in and have Marathi prayers. - -“Then I teach my servants to read, and ask a few questions in the -Catechism, then teach the Christian girls and young women whom we want -to train for Bible women, from two until three P. M. At three o’clock -we have a cup of tea and some bread and butter; then I am free to -settle ‘cases’ and hear ‘tales of woe’ until half-past four, when I go -into town to teach the women and girls in the zenanas. I get home in -time to have a good bath and get into a fresh dress before dinner at -half-past seven. After dinner we talk over our experiences and plans of -work, and sometimes one reads aloud while the rest of us sew until it -is time to retire, generally an early hour.”—_Interior._ - -[Illustration: AN OLD-TIME WARRIOR.] - -[Illustration: THE MILKY WAY.] - - - - -YOUNG FOLKS OF ALASKA. - - -THIS face is not like yours, but more like some of the young folks of -Alaska. Of course you want to know a bit about the boys and girls away -off there. - -Here it is from Mrs. Cady, who was there not long ago: - -“Mr. Austin, the missionary, and these boys dragged all the timber by -ropes to build the first house. - -“The Sabbath evening service was opened by a fine anthem, these boys -and girls being among the singers. Mr. Austin read a Psalm in English, -which was interpreted by a boy fourteen years old. - -“He asked a girl twelve years old to offer the closing prayer, and she -expressed it beautifully in English. - -“They are very polite. If a boy taps at the door his hat is off before -the door is opened. Their table manners are good. One boy is head -waiter. - -“He can offer thanks or call upon some other boy to do so, or sing a -blessing.” - -[Illustration: AN ALASKA CHILD.] - -Of course you ought to know just how the grandmothers of these bright -Alaska children look. Our picture will enable you to judge somewhat of -their appearance. - - L. - -[Illustration: ALASKAN WOMEN.] - - - - -BABY’S CORNER. - -POOR TABBY. - - -TABBY thought she was a very smart cat, but there were some rats living -in the barn who knew almost as much as Tabby did herself. - -[Illustration: THE GRAY RAT TANTALIZES TABBY.] - -One morning Tabby went to the barn. She had tried for days to catch a -rat, but just as she got her paw out to strike one off he scampered. -“To-day I shall get the old gray rat, see if I don’t,” said Tabby to -herself as she walked down the path. - -She stepped softly into the door. But what was this new shining thing -she saw? - -Why, Farmer Jones had put a big trap there to catch the rats. - -Now Tabby had never seen a trap, and she said to herself: - -“Why, here is a pretty little house! It must be for me; I will walk -right in. How nice!” - -So she stepped in. Snap! went the door, shut! and there poor Puss was -in prison. - -She tried to get out, but she could not. She cried, but nobody came to -let her out. - -While she sat there feeling sad, two rats came and looked at her. The -old gray one, as he stood on his hind legs, said: - -“Aha! I see; I see! Anybody who goes into that door does not come out. -I shall never go in.” - -By and by Tommy Jones missed his pussy and went to the barn to look for -her. - -Oh! was not Tabby glad to see him coming? - - MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON. - - - - -DAVIE’S WITNESSES. - - -IT was Fourth of July morning, and Davie Carson had been up since a -good while before the sun, not firing crackers and torpedoes, nor -watching the firing of the great cannon, but doing the chores. He was -in tremendous haste. An entire holiday was a thing he did not have -twice in a year. A hard-working boy was Davie, with not only his own -bread to earn, but with a great longing in his heart to help earn the -bread of two sisters and a brother younger than himself. He lived in a -small village where there was little chance of a boy of his age earning -much. The best that he had been able to do, so far, was to seize odd -jobs as they happened along; or rather as he hunted them out. Not very -pleasant jobs, all of them. Davie liked horses, and was glad of a -chance to lead Dr. Bristol’s to water; but to like to clean out their -stalls was another thing. But he knew how to do this work, and did it -well, and had put on his great work apron this morning for the purpose -of taking that job next. - -It was his last one for the morning; after that breakfast, and then -a four-mile brisk run to the next village to the Fourth of July -celebration. His mother had not made the least objection to his staying -to the celebration. On the contrary she had said heartily: “I am glad -the doctor wants an errand done there; it will give you a good excuse -for going. Of course you may stay, and welcome; and I’ll put you up a -nice Fourth of July lunch; and if there is something to see, or to buy, -that doesn’t cost more than ten cents, you just have it, or see it, -whichever it is. You deserve a treat, Davie.” - -Davie laughed gleefully. It was pleasant to hear his mother speak such -words, but he had a very different plan. Hurried as he had been that -morning, he leaned on his spade and thought it all out. In the village -where the celebration was to be was a large book store, where he had -once or twice been sent on errands for Dr. Bristol, and had feasted -his eyes upon the rows and rows of books and magazines, and thought -what a thing it would be to have a chance to handle them. The day -before, while holding the horses and waiting for the doctor, his eyes -had rested on an advertisement in the paper—WANTED: A BOY. Then had -followed a brief statement of the kind of boy, and what his duties -would be, and the whole was signed by the proprietor of the book store. - -Davie’s cheeks had glowed so while reading it, that the doctor, -returning just then, had looked hard at him, and asked him if he was -getting up a fever. The splendid plan which the boy had thought out -leaning on his shovel was, that he would clip around to the book store -the moment the doctor’s errand was done, and try for that place! - -To be sure there was hardly a possibility that he would succeed, but -then he might, and certainly he would never accomplish anything if he -did not try. But he did not mean to let any body know of his ambitions, -so he had only a laugh for his mother’s suggestion. - -“If I get a chance to see the procession and hear the music and a few -such things it will be all the lark I want,” he said cheerily, “except -the lunch; I’ll be sure to want that. You are sure you can get along -without me for such a long time?” - -“O, yes, indeed!” the mother said, smiling back on him. It was so like -her Davie to think of mother. - -Davie made good speed over the road, though it was up hill and dusty, -and the day was warm. He believed himself to be in ample time to see -the parade which was to be made in honor of the day. At the corner he -halted and glanced wistfully toward the book store; it was within half -a block of him, and who knew but that if he should appear so early in -the day he might get ahead of somebody? - -“No, it can’t be done,” he said at last, speaking aloud and firmly. -“Davie Carson, I am ashamed of you! A package of medicine in your -pocket that the doctor said an old lady was anxiously waiting for, and -you thinking about stopping on an errand of your own. Just march down -to Coleman Street as fast as your feet can carry you!” - -And the order was meekly obeyed. Here he was detained for minutes which -seemed like hours to him. The sound of martial music was heard in the -near distance, and people all along the streets were dodging to the -doors to see if anything was to be seen; but the old lady’s daughter -wanted to write a note to the doctor to send back by Davie. She would -not be a minute, she said; but she was. - -“I might call for the note on my way home,” Davie timidly suggested. -But she said, “O, no! that was not worth while; she could just as well -write it now, and make sure of it; she would have it ready very soon.” -And the sound of music drew nearer and nearer, until it passed the -corner and faded in the distance; and the note was ready at last. - -Davie crowded it into his pocket, tried to listen respectfully to -several messages besides, and went down the stairs three steps at a -time to follow that fading music. The street was nearly deserted; all -the boys had rushed out of sight with the procession. Davie took long -strides in the same direction, and wondered if it would be improper to -break into a run. - -Appearing at that moment around the corner ahead of him was a belated -group—a father, mother and two children; odd-looking people, queerly -dressed, and seeming to be entirely out of place in a town. - -“Halloo! what’s the matter now?” Another corner had been reached and -turned by the people ahead of him, with the exception of the youngest -of the group, who had tumbled down; it was her outcry which roused -him. He picked her up, brushing the dust and soil from her clothes, -straightening the much bent sunbonnet, and urging her not to cry, that -they would find the others in a jiffy. She stopped crying the moment -she discovered herself in kind hands, and looked confidingly at Davie -out of great blue eyes, and slipped her small brown hand into his with -great satisfaction. Then they two turned the corner, and were at once -in a crowd. The thing which astonished and troubled him was, that -the father and mother and older sister of his little girl seemed to -have disappeared. For a weary half-hour the two jostled against the -crowd and stared and hunted. At last there darted toward him an angry -father, talking broken English in loud tones, followed by an angrier -mother and a crying little girl. “What was he doing with Gretchen? How -dare he steal their Gretchen and make off with her! Bad, wicked boy! -The police should know all about it, that they should!” In vain Davie -tried to explain; they were too excited and frightened to listen to -explanations. In the midst of Davie’s attempts two well-dressed boys -standing near, broke into laughter, and so confused him that he stopped -short, and the enraged family trudged away, his little girl in his -arms, and the father shaking his head at Davie. But the little girl -looked back and smiled lovingly on him. - -Then Davie found that the crowd were trying to get near the band stand. - -“Come this way,” said one of the boys who had laughed, touching -his shoulder; “there is a chance to slip in behind here and get a -first-rate position.” Davie thanked them, and was just going to slip -in, when a little girl who was flying past, going in the opposite -direction from the pushing crowd, jostled against him, and as she did -so dropped from under her arm a small package. Davie picked it up -and looked eagerly after the girl, shouting, “Hold on, you’ve lost -something!” But she flew like the wind. - -“You can’t catch her,” said a man; “she is lost in the jam by this -time. You may as well pocket the bundle and call it Fourth of July -luck.” - -“And you will lose your chance in here if you don’t come this minute,” -said one of the boys, trying to keep a way open for him. - -“Thank you,” said Davie, “but I think I ought to find the little girl,” -saying which he struck into the crowd, and began his search. - -It was several hours afterwards that a boy who was very tired, and who, -if he had not been so disappointed, would have been hungry, came out -of the handsome book store and with slow steps started for his long -walk home. He had delivered the medicine for which he came in the first -place; he had the note for the doctor safe in his pocket; he had picked -up a little German girl, and after much trouble given her back to a -father who was angry at him about it; he had followed a little girl, or -rather followed the road over which she vanished, for two weary hours, -and at last found her and restored the lost parcel, only to hear her -laugh gleefully and declare that there was nothing in it but some -dried-up sandwiches, which he was welcome to if he wanted them. And not -a glimpse of procession, or sound of martial music or voice of public -speaker had he seen or heard that day, save the few strains in the -distance which had lured him in the morning. - -Moreover, he had called at the book store only to have the proprietor -shake his head and say: “Of course, my boy, I couldn’t engage you for -such a place as this without references. For whom do you work when you -are at home?” - -Davie explained that they had been but a short time in that part -of the country; he had no regular place, but did odd jobs for Dr. -Bristol—cleaned out the stable and such things. No, Dr. Bristol did not -know much about him—nobody did but mother—and he had not known that a -recommendation would be needed. - -“I might just as well have staid at home and helped mother,” said -Davie, as he walked slowly, with head down. “I’ve lost a day, and -gained nothing at all. I wish I had—no, I don’t either. I did what I -thought was right. I’m glad I did it.” Whereupon Davie whistled. - -“Who was that boy, father, and what did he want?” A young man asked the -question of the bookseller as he came back to his parlor; he liked the -looks of the boy. - -“Do you know anything about him?” replied the father, and before he -could answer a bright-faced little girl chimed in: “O, Uncle Edward! -what is his name? Don’t you know? I’m so sorry if you don’t; papa -wants to know it.” - -“No, sir,” said the young man; “I don’t know him; but he is the chap I -was telling you about who wandered around with that little German girl, -and took patiently a hard scolding from the father afterwards, and a -laugh from two well-dressed, thoughtless boys.” - -“Is he, indeed?” said the father; “I wish I had known it.” - -Then the little girl: “And O, Uncle Edward! don’t you think he is -the very same boy who hunted after me for two hours to give me those -sandwiches. Papa said I was a little dunce not to ask his name; that he -ought to be rewarded for honesty and faithfulness.” - -“I know his name,” said Uncle Edward, “and I believe I will reward him.” - -The next morning, when Davie was out in the little garden hoeing and -whistling, a strange thing happened to him; he received a letter—the -first letter with his name on the envelope which he had ever received. -It was short and to the point: - - After you left me yesterday two witnesses to your - honesty and faithfulness, as well as to your good - temper under provocation, called upon me, and made me - decide to give you a month’s trial in the store if - you still wish the situation. Call on me to-day if - possible; if not, to-morrow will do. - - Yours sincerely, - EDWARD HAMMOND. - -“Mother,” said Davie, as they went all over the plans for the third -time, “who could have called on him who knows anything about me? I -can’t imagine.” - - PANSY. - -[Illustration: A SUMMER DAY IN THE COUNTRY.] - -[Illustration: A STITCH AT A TIME.] - - - - -ABOUT ST. AUGUSTINE. - -BY THE PANSIES. - - -THE way it came to be called St. Augustine was this: it used to be -named Seloy on the river Dolphins. That was when it belonged to the -Indians. The French people named the river, and they gave it that name -because they saw a great many dolphins playing in the mouth of the -river. After awhile the Spaniards came and took the town on the day -which was sacred to their saint, Augustine, so they named both town and -river San Augustin. - - RUFUS HUNTER. - - * * * * * - -IN the American Revolution Florida was the only colony which was -loyal to the king. When they heard the news of the Declaration of -Independence they burned John Hancock and Samuel Adams in effigy, -calling them rebels. After that some of the “Liberty Boys,” as our -soldiers were called, stole powder from the British brig _Betsey_, -which lay at anchor at San Augustin and slipped away with it, to be -used at Bunker Hill. - - HARVEY DENNISON. - - * * * * * - -I READ about the services which they used to hold in St. Augustine -on Palm Sunday. They marched from the church to the platform of the -convent, where was a beautiful altar trimmed with flowers and fruits. -The congregation knelt on the ground while the priest said mass, then -the nuns took baskets of rose petals which were brought by many little -children in the procession, and strewed them before the altar in honor -of the Virgin. - - LAURA EASTMAN. - - * * * * * - -I LIKE to read about St. Augustine when it was a walled town with -earthworks and batteries; when you had to enter the town through the -great gate or by the drawbridge. At sunset a gun was fired, which meant -that the bridge was raised, the gate barred, and both were guarded by -soldiers. I can imagine them pacing back and forth challenging people -who passed. “_Centinela alerta_,” they said, and “_Alerta esta_,” -answered the outsider if he knew enough. I think it must have been -great fun. I should like to understand the Spanish language, the words -have such a musical sound. But the outsider might say “_Alerta esta_” -as much as he liked, after the gates were closed he could not get into -the town until next morning, no matter if his home was just the other -side of the gate. Once in a long time came a messenger with news for -the governor so important that for him they would open the gate; but -this was very unusual. - - JOHN L. PARKER. - - * * * * * - -THEY had one fashion in St. Augustine in the early days when the town -was ruled by Spaniards which might work pretty well nowadays in some -places. When a fellow became a great nuisance, would not work, and -disturbed people by making noises in the streets, and things of that -kind, they used to make him dress himself in some ridiculous fashion, -put him at the head of a procession made up of anybody who wanted to -join it and help make fun of him; then the drum and fife started up and -he was marched out of the town, and he could not come back again. - - HELEN DUNNING. - - * * * * * - -I WENT with my father and mother to St. Augustine only last winter. -We went through the Ponce de Leon, which I think must be the finest -hotel in the world. It is built of some kind of stuff that glitters in -the sun, and looks in the shade as if it were blue, and the trimmings -are of terra cotta. The floors of the halls are inlaid with little -bits of marble, and the marble columns everywhere make you think for a -minute that you are stepping into an art gallery instead of a hotel. -The rotunda is just lovely! It has eight oak pillars to support it, -each beautifully carved. The rotunda is four stories high, and has -corridors on each story with more columns and lovely arches. The dome -has wonderful paintings and carved figures, giving in pictures the -history of Spain and France. You can look straight up through an -opening to the great copper columns which form the lantern at the top. -The large parlor is perfectly splendid. It is a hundred and four feet -long, and fifty-three feet wide; but there are arches and portières, so -that it can be divided into five rooms whenever the people wish. It is -magnificently furnished. I think, however, that the great dining-room -is really more beautiful than the parlor. More than eight hundred -people can take dinner there at one time, and you can look out of the -windows at lovely orange groves, and hear the mockingbirds singing, and -there is a band of music which always plays while the dinner is being -served. - - ANNA WHEELER AUSTIN. - - * * * * * - -A BAND of singers used to go about the streets of old St. Augustine on -Easter eve, playing on their violins and guitars, and stopping under -the windows to sing: - - “_Disciarem lu doi, - Cantarem anb alagria, - Y n’arem a da - Las pascuas a Maria._” - -It seems almost impossible to sing such queer-sounding words, but -translated they mean: - - “Ended the days of sadness, - Grief gives place to singing; - We come with joy and gladness, - Our gifts to Mary bringing.” - MARY GEDDIS. - - * * * * * - -IN the year 1821 Spain gave Florida to the United States, the old -yellow flag of Spain was taken down forever, and in its place our own -beautiful stars and stripes floated over the old town. I wonder if the -people living there knew enough to shout for joy? - - HENRY STUART. - - * * * * * - -IT is all very well for my brother to talk about the people shouting -for joy when the stars and stripes floated over their town; but I guess -he forgets what an awful time they had only about fifteen years later, -when the Seminole War broke out. That was because the new people who -had come in wanted the lands which had always belonged to the Indians, -and wanted them driven further West. For the next seven years I think -the people had reason to be sorry that they had ever seen the stars and -stripes. Not but that I love the old flag as well as my brother does, -but I think the Indians were ill-treated. It makes me very sad to read -how they were at last cheated into a surrender, and carried away by -force from the land they loved so well. - - CHARLES MORTON STUART. - - * * * * * - -MY sister Anna thought the hotel was the nicest part of St. Augustine, -but I liked the old fort the best. It used to be Fort San Marco, but -when the United States got hold of it they named it Fort Marion, after -General Francis Marion. I would like to describe it, but I don’t -understand just how. It is in shape what is called a polygon, and has -a moat all around it. The stone or shell of which it is built is used -a great deal in St. Augustine, or used to be; it is called coquina. I -think the narrow streets and queer-looking old houses are much more -interesting than the new streets, which are just like any other city. -At least I liked them better; but girls always like elegant hotels and -splendid furniture and all such things. - - GEORGE WHEELER AUSTIN. - - * * * * * - -MY mother used to live in St. Augustine years ago. She has told me -a good deal about the streets, and the sea wall, and the little old -houses. She has described St. George Street and Tolomato Street until -it seems to me I could find my way up and down them almost as well as -she could. But mother says things are very much changed since she was -there; she reads in the papers about the beautiful new hotels, and -says it does not seem possible they are in old St. Augustine. The old -streets were very narrow; I suppose they are still. Next winter I am -going there to see things for myself. - - SARAH CASTLETON. - - [The Pansies have seemed chiefly interested this month - in the history of old St. Augustine, rather than in a - description of the city. But I think our readers will - agree with me that they have managed to crowd a good - deal of information into a small space. Sorry we have - not room for all they said.—EDITORS.] - - - - -REUBEN AS AN ERRAND BOY. - -(_Character Studies._) - - -REUBEN MINOR was in his own room in his shirt sleeves, and the sleeves -rolled to his elbows. His paste pot was on the table, sheets of -paper and scraps of pasteboard were on the floor, and Reuben, with a -queer-shaped box before him, was in what Maria called “a brown study.” - -[Illustration: “IN A BROWN STUDY.”] - -The stair door opened, and his Aunt Mary’s voice called, “Reuben!” - -“Yes’m.” - -“Don’t you forget those errands that you’ve got to do in town. Have you -got ’em all in your mind?” - -“Yes’m.” - -“There’s only the eggs and the kerosene and the vinegar, you know, so -you won’t need to have ’em written down—just three things.” - -“All right.” - -Silence for a few minutes, during which Reuben turned the box endwise -and squinted at it. “Let’s see,” he said, leaning his elbow on the -table and his head on his hand, “I wonder how that would do?” Then he -started for his row of shelves, seized upon a good-sized book in the -corner, and dived into its pages. Something was not clear. The stair -door opened again, and his aunt’s voice sounded: “Reuben!” - -“Yes’m.” - -“You must take that next car, you know, because there isn’t another for -an hour, and I’m in a hurry for the eggs; if I don’t have them by noon -there’ll be no pumpkin pie for Sunday. Are you all ready for the car?” - -“I will be in a minute, Aunt Mary.” - -“Well, you better get ready right straight off, then there won’t be any -mistake; it will be along now in a little while.” - -There was no reply to this, and the door closed again, Reuben, -meantime, deep in his book. Ten minutes, fifteen minutes, then a -sudden, sharp call from below: “Reuben, there’s the car coming. Hurry, -now! don’t you miss it for anything.” - -Reuben hurried. He made a frantic dash for his coat, ran his fingers -through his hair by way of combing, concluded to go without a necktie, -and tore down the stairs and out of the kitchen door and across the -lawn, to the tune of his aunt’s words: “I believe in my heart you’ll -lose that car, after all!” - -No, he didn’t. He hailed it, panting and breathless, some minutes after -it had passed the corner, and at last was seated in it, mopping his -wet forehead, for the morning was warm. But he had not forgotten the -big book. Four miles in a street car, with not many passengers at that -hour, gave him a good chance to study up that puzzling portion which -he could not get through his mind. So he studied and puzzled, and the -car rumbled on, and stopped, and went on again many times, and people -came in and went out, and Reuben knew nothing about them. At last he -looked up; he believed he could make that box now, partitions and all, -if he were only at home. Halloo! they were in town already, and were -passing Porter’s. Why! then they must have passed the corner grocery -where Aunt Mary always traded. What a nuisance! Now perhaps he could -not get this car on its return trip. He must try for it. So he pulled -the check, and made what speed he could back, three, four, five blocks, -to the corner grocery. As he left the car he wondered how they managed -the flap that made the fastening of the inner box, and still puzzling -over it, presented himself at the counter of the city grocery. - -“Well, sir,” said the clerk, after waiting a minute for orders, “what -can I do for you?” - -What indeed? Reuben stared at him, grew red in the face, stammered, -mopped his face with his handkerchief, gazed up and down the rows and -rows of crowded shelves, gazed about him everywhere. What had he come -for? That was the awful question. What had Aunt Mary said? She had said -several things, he remembered. He tried to recall the all-important -one. Butter? No, of course not; they made their own butter. Flour, -perhaps, or starch—women were always wanting flour and starch—or it -might have been tea. He was sure he did not know, and the longer he -thought the more confused he seemed to get. And there was the return -car! Unless he took that he would have to wait a solid hour, and for -what? Was there any likelihood that he would remember? Reuben asked -himself that question in a most searching manner, then sorrowfully -shook his head as he owned to himself that he did not believe he ever -knew; he had not paid any attention to that part of the business. - -Aunt Mary was watching for the return car. “Reuben has come,” she -called out to Maria in the kitchen, as she caught a glimpse of him. -“I must say I am relieved; I don’t know how we could have managed -without those eggs. If I ever get hold of any hens that lay again, -I’ll venture to say I won’t sell all my eggs to my neighbors and have -to depend on store ones for myself. Why, what in the world has the boy -done with them? He seems to be empty-handed! Hurry up, Reuben, we are -waiting for the eggs. Where are your things?” - -Poor red-faced, shamefaced Reuben! It was hard work, but there was -nothing for it but to own that the first he had heard of eggs was at -that moment; and as for the “things,” he had no more idea than the man -in the moon what they were. - -“I believe that boy is half-witted,” the clerk at the corner grocery -had said, after watching him for a few minutes, and seeing him make -a dash for the return car, not having bought a thing. But bless your -heart, he wasn’t. He had wits enough. “Too many of ’em,” his Aunt Mary -said. The trouble with Reuben was that he had never learned to withdraw -his thoughts from the thing which wanted to absorb them, and fix them -for the time being, instead, on the thing which ought to claim his -attention. - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - - - - -THE ADOPTED FAMILY. - - -IT was a beautiful summer day when the Westwoods arrived at their -country home, most of them very glad indeed to see the dear old place. -They had staid in town very late that season, Mr. Westwood’s business -being such that there was a time when he feared he could not get away -at all. Now here they were turning the corner which brought the house -into view; the great wagon following close behind, piled high with -baggage, and every one was glad, save Herbert. He was eleven years old, -and fond of his city home, and of the school which he attended, and of -the boys in his class, and felt very lonely and desolate. He “did not -know a single boy out here,” he confided to his mother, “that he ever -cared to see again.” “And when a fellow hasn’t any friends,” he said -dolefully, “it is very lonesome.” - -“Poor boy!” said Mrs. Westwood, when he was out of hearing, “I am sorry -for him; I wish he liked the country as I used to; the long bright -summer days were just crowded with happiness for me; but then I had -sister Fanny to play with, and brother Will. Perhaps it would have been -different if I had been all alone.” - -“Children must learn to make friends of the birds, and the squirrels, -and all sorts of living things,” answered his father. “When I was -Herbert’s age, I used to know the note of every bird in the woods, and -I don’t believe he can tell even a robin when he sees it.” - -“No,” said his mother; “he has but little chance for that sort of -education; and moreover he has no taste for anything of the kind; I -wish he had.” - -The carriage which had been winding up the drive, stopped in front of -the old-fashioned, wide piazzaed country home. It did seem a pity that -anybody should feel doleful coming to such a pleasant place as that; -but Herbert felt doleful; as he stood with his hand in his pockets, and -stared down the country road, he winked hard to keep back the tears, -when he thought of the boys in town having their military drill at this -hour. Meanwhile his father and mother, and Peter and Hannah, bustled -about, opening doors and windows, and planning where the luggage should -be set down. Presently Herbert heard an exclamation from his mother. -“For pity’s sake!” she said—and in the next breath— - -“Herbert, come here and see what I have found!” - -So Herbert swallowed hard, and brushed away a tear or two, and went -round to the side piazza from where his mother’s voice had sounded, and -saw a sight which made him go on tiptoe and gaze in delight. - -Pushed back, well under shelter from the summer storms, in the -southeast corner of the piazza, was an old, somewhat dilapidated willow -chair, large and very comfortable in its time, but which had long -since been assigned to the piazza, and not considered worth bringing -in out of the dews or the rain. In the fall when the family closed -the house, the old chair had been forgotten. It had stood there all -winter, deserted and lonely. But in the spring it had evidently been -mistaken by a certain family as a house which was for rent, and they -had rented it and moved in and set up housekeeping on a splendid scale; -the consequences were, that fastened ingeniously to the back of the -chair was a luxurious nest, most carefully woven, and within it at this -moment were three of the prettiest speckled eggs that Herbert had ever -seen. In fact his knowledge of birds’ eggs was limited; he had seen but -very few. - -“O, mother!” he said softly, “how pretty it is. There is one of the -birds on the branches near by—a splendid fellow. Where is his mate, do -you suppose?” - -“Not far away, you may depend,” said his mother. “What a cunning place -it is in which to build a house. How fortunate that the chair is so -near that door instead of the other one. We can get along for awhile -without opening that door at all, and they can raise their family -without having trouble. If I were you, Herbert, I would adopt them -and look after their interests and help to bring up their young ones; -wouldn’t that be fun?” - -“Well,” said Herbert, with more glee than he had shown since he had -left his city home, “I believe I will. I will call that fellow up there -on the bush Denny, and he and I will be companions this summer.” - -“That will be splendid,” said Mrs. Westwood, very much pleased, for -Denny was the short for “Denison,” her boy’s best friend in town. It -was certainly a delicate compliment to name the bird after him, and -showed to the mother the degree of friendship which Herbert meant to -cultivate. - -“We shall get along comfortably now,” she said to her husband -laughingly; “he has adopted the birds in the old chair, and named the -singer ‘Denny,’ so he will not lack for companionship.” - -Ah! I wish I could tell you about the lovely summer. Never was a -brighter, more congenial companion than Denny. He sang his sweetest -songs for the lonesome boy, and accepted his overtures of friendship in -the most genial manner possible. Before the season was over not only -he but his wife would allow Herbert to come close enough to the old -chair to drop special dainties into the nest for the children, and were -voluble in their thanks. More than that, Denny actually learned to come -and perch himself on Herbert’s finger and eat sugar out of his hand. -And one of the children grew so fond of Herbert that she took many a -walk perched on his shoulder, chirping occasionally to let him know -that she was there, and was happy. - -“I never knew that birds could be so pleasant,” Herbert said to his -mother; “they are better than boys and girls in some respects; they -never get vexed at a fellow, you know, and refuse to speak to him for -days together. Even Denny got mad at me once, and wouldn’t speak for a -whole day. Now this Denny never forgets to say ‘How do you do?’ even if -I haven’t been out of his sight longer than five minutes.” - -On the whole the birds did a good thing for Herbert Westwood that -summer; they turned what they thought would be a weariness into a -season of great delight, and of daily increasing interest. More than -that, he did a good thing for the birds. Before the season was over he -had made the acquaintance of dozens of boys in the neighborhood and -formed a society, the pledge of which was protection to the birds. No -stones were to be thrown, no snares to be set by these boys or any whom -they recognized as friends; neither were any nests to be molested, and -not a few of the boys became so interested in Denny and his family that -they determined for another season to adopt a family of their own, and -study birds. - -“They are wonderful creatures,” said Herbert thoughtfully, as he was -reporting to his mother some of the bird stories which had been told -in the society that afternoon, “just wonderful creatures! I don’t know -how I ever came to pass them by without thinking anything about them. I -tell you what, mother, God must have thought about them a great deal.” - - EFIL SREDNOW. - - * * * * * - - GOD’S promises are fulfilled a hundred cents on a - dollar. - - - - -A PRETTY GIFT. - -(_Something for Mamma._) - - -THE materials needed for this gift are a smooth thin board about two -feet long and six inches wide, some bright-colored plush, some pretty -cretonne, a dozen or more brass hooks of varying sizes, none of them -very large, a couple of “cock eyes” such as are used for hanging small -picture frames, and a yard or two of ribbon, color to match the plush, -or contrast nicely with it. - -The smooth board is to be covered on one side with the plush, on the -other with the cretonne, the edges neatly sewed; then the hooks are to -be screwed in at regular intervals on the plush side, the ribbon drawn -through the rings or “cock eyes,” and tied in a bow ready for hanging, -and your work is done. - -When it comes into mamma’s possession she will select a convenient -spot on her wall, and hang it as though it were a picture. Then on -the little hooks she will hang her glove buttoner, her small scissors -which are forever slipping out of sight, her shoe buttoner, her watch, -perhaps, when it is not in use, and it may be her favorite ring which -she removes when she washes her hands. I am sure I could not enumerate -the little bits of useful articles which she will be only too glad to -hang on such convenient hooks, that she will find not a disfigurement -but an ornament to her room. - -Now having told you just what and how, let me go carefully over the -story again and remind you of its possibilities. For I can well imagine -a little girl who wants to make her mother a neat and convenient -present, but who has no plush nor ribbon, and does not even know how to -get the right kind of a board. - -My dear, you are just the one I want to help. About the board; it need -not be exactly two feet long and six inches wide; it may be of the -length and width which you find convenient, and which you decide will -look well in the space where it is to hang. There are light boards used -by wholesale merchants in packing certain goods which are just the -thing, and they can often be had for the asking at the store where your -mother does most of her shopping. Neither is plush a necessity. I have -a friend who made a pretty “Wall Toilet” such as I have described, out -of a bit of soft silk a friend had given her to dress her dollie. The -silk was old, but she smoothed it neatly, padded it with a sheet of -white cotton padding, and it looked very nice; but you may not happen -to have the silk? Never mind, don’t you remember those pieces of turkey -red calico in your auntie’s piece bag? They are just the thing, and -your little friend who wants to make one, and has no turkey red calico, -has some bright blue cambric which will be very pretty. All thin -material will look better if the board is first padded with the cotton -I spoke of. The brass hooks are quite cheap, and so useful that I think -we must have them; but a red cord, or a neat band of cretonne, or some -tidy cotton twisted into a cord, finished with tassels made out of it, -will take the place of the ribbon very nicely indeed. In short, the old -motto, “Where there is a will there is a way,” will serve you well in -making this gift, as indeed it will in almost any emergency in life. - -I know by experience how useful the little contrivances are, and I -earnestly hope that many a mother will have her birthday enriched this -season by one of them, made by her own little daughter’s thoughtful -hand. - - PANSY. - -[Illustration: AS WE USED TO DRESS.] - -[Illustration: A DEER CHILD.] - - - - -OR MISS MOON’S FACES. - - -TRUTH to tell she does make up faces, very different and queer ones, -and no one Pansy sees exactly the same one at the same time, and since -there are ten thousand Pansies, more or less, you see Miss Nancy Moon -is smarter in “making faces” than some of you. - -Another “truth to tell” is that the “moon’s phases” means appearances, -or looks, and so why is it not quite the same as Nancy Moon’s faces? -We’ll think it is. - -Every Pansy knows some astronomy or—ought to. Come, then, and from this -time on till you are a hundred years old know that astronomy means -star-law, or all about the bright worlds in the sky. Now you know -some astronomy. The moon is one of these worlds, and is very near our -world—only two hundred and forty thousand miles away—and is one of the -lamps to light it up. You must begin to learn about it. That you may -call moonology. One of the first things to learn in moonology is how -she makes so many faces; once a month a long, narrow bent face, then a -little fatter, and so on till it is full as a—beer keg. Of course you -mustn’t think she really drinks that stuff. I guess there is no license -in Moontown. - -If you will study the picture with all your might and main a half-hour -to-day, another to-morrow, and so on, and then get grandpapa to put on -his specs and help—you’ll surely answer the riddle, how the faces (or -phases) are made. - -Then some day you may become a great astronomer—like Tycho Brahe or -John Kepler. - - L. - -[Illustration: THE MOON’S PHASES.] - - * * * * * - - WHEN you’ve got a thing to say, - Say it! Don’t take half a day. - When your tale’s got little in it, - Crowd the whole thing in a minute! - Life is short—a fleeting vapor— - Don’t fill up a ream of paper - With a tale, which, at a pinch, - Could be cornered in an inch! - Boil it down until it simmers; - Polish it until it glimmers. - When you’ve got a thing to say, - Say it! Don’t take half a day. - —_Selected._ - -[Illustration: AT THE PARIS OBSERVATORY.] - - - - -BABY’S CORNER. - -JOHNNY’S PILLOW. - - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - -ONE day Johnny was taking a walk in the orchard with Nurse. - -He was hunting for berries, and what do you think he found? - -He found some big white eggs hidden in the tall grass! - -Johnny wanted to put the pretty eggs in his basket and take them home -to mamma. - -But Nurse said: - -“No, no, come away, dear. That is a nest. Hush! there comes the old -goose. She will sit on the eggs and keep them warm, and by and by she -will have some pretty goslings.” - -After that Johnny went with Nurse every day to take a peep at the gray -goose sitting on her eggs. - -She sat and sat a good many days, and then one morning when Johnny went -to look, sure enough, the goslings had come! - -They had no feathers on, and they had long, ugly necks and big feet. - -“I don’t like ’em,” said Johnny. - -The little goslings grew fast. They had a nice farmyard to live in, and -a little brook to paddle in. - -At night the farmer shut them up in the barn, so that the cats and dogs -could not eat them up. - -In a few days they were all covered with pretty feathers. - -Then Johnny liked them. - -By and by the little goslings were old enough to go with their father -and mother and aunts and uncles to swim in a big lake. That made them -very, very happy. - -Then they grew to be big geese, and wore a lot of feathers, and Johnny -had a pillow, which he enjoyed very much, made from the soft down that -grew on their white breasts. - - MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON. - - - - -WHO WAS TO BLAME? - - -“NOW you see, Emeline Frances,” said Celia, pushing herself up among -the pillows and speaking in slow, stern tones to the dollie lying on -her arm, “it is really your fault, and no other person’s; if you hadn’t -been bound and determined to go out this afternoon, why, we shouldn’t -have gone, that’s all. It had been raining, of course it had, and -the walks were all damp, and you had no rubbers to wear over these -shoes. Besides all that, you had been told that you must not go out -this afternoon; but you were so vain of your new dress and hat, and so -anxious to show them to Lulu Parks, that you would insist on going, and -making me get my feet wet. Now here we are! A whole hour yet before it -will be dark, and just a lovely time to play, and company downstairs -in the parlor, and just the kind of cake for tea that I like the best, -and we have to come upstairs and go to bed! I hope you are satisfied, -Emeline Frances, with your afternoon’s work. I shouldn’t have thought -of going out if you hadn’t have been so crazy to show your new hat. It -is just a pity that you think so much of fine clothes. The dampness -took the curl all out of your new feather, and it will never be so -pretty again; but you had your own way, and will have to take the -consequences. The worst of it is that you make me suffer with you. If -this were the first time you had disobeyed perhaps I shouldn’t feel so -badly, but as it is, I am almost discouraged. I do not see how you can -be so naughty and forgetful.” - -The lecture closed with one of Celia’s longest sighs. The door which -led from her room to her brother Stuart’s was ajar, and he, sitting at -his desk supposed to be studying his Latin for the next day, listened -with the most unqualified amusement to the whole of it. He repeated the -story downstairs at the tea-table, amid bursts of laughter from the -entire family, his mother excepted. - -“Mamma looks as grave as a judge over it,” Stuart said at last, when -the laugh had subsided. “What’s the matter, mamma? Don’t you think the -poor baby’s version of her troubles is funny?” - -[Illustration: CELIA TALKS TO EMELINE FRANCES.] - -“It has its funny side,” said Mrs. Campbell, with a grave smile upon -her face, “but really, it has its sad side too. You are a very good -mimic, my son, and gave Celia’s voice and manner to perfection, in -doing which you have reminded me of her besetting sin. Have you never -noticed that the child, in her own estimation, is always led into -trouble through the fault of others? If she cannot blame Nora, or -Josie, or some of her playmates, why then poor Emeline Frances has to -bear it. I am really very much troubled by this habit of hers. To judge -from Celia’s statement of the case, she is forever led astray by the -evil propensities of other people. If it were true, it would be sad -enough, to have a child so easily led in the wrong way; but sometimes -there is as much foundation for her theory as there is in this case, -when the vanity of poor Emeline Frances is supposed to have caused all -the trouble. I have tried to reason the child out of such excuses, but -when she reaches the folly of actually blaming the doll for leading her -astray, I hardly know what to think of her.” - -“It is a curious development,” said Celia’s father, “but I have known -older and wiser people than she to indulge in it; I knew a young man -once, who charged a moonlight night of unusual beauty with all the -folly of which he was guilty that evening.” - -After this sentence Stuart Campbell finished his supper in silence, -with his eyes on his plate; but perhaps no one but his father knew that -his cheeks were redder than usual. - - PANSY. - - - - -A VERITABLE POEM OF POEMS. - - -A LADY of San Francisco is said to have occupied a year in hunting up -and fitting together the following thirty-eight lines from thirty-eight -English-speaking poets. The names of the authors are given below: - - 1. Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour? - 2. Life’s a short summer, man a flower; - 3. By turns we catch the vital breath, and die; - 4. The cradle and the tomb, alas! so nigh. - 5. To be is better far than not to be, - 6. ’Though all man’s life may seem a tragedy; - 7. But light cares speak when mighty cares are dumb, - 8. The bottom is but shallow whence they come. - 9. Your fate is but the common fate of all; - 10. Unmingled joys here to no man befall. - 11. Nature to each allots her proper sphere, - 12. Fortune makes folly her peculiar care; - 13. Custom does often reason overrule, - 14. And throw a cruel sunshine on a fool. - 15. Live well, how long, how short, permit to heaven, - 16. They who forgive most shall be most forgiven. - 17. Sin may be clasped so close we cannot see its face— - 18. Vile intercourse where virtue has not place; - 19. Then keep each passion down, however dear; - 20. Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear; - 21. Her sensual snares, let faithless Pleasure lay - 22. With craft and skill to ruin and betray; - 23. Soar not too high to fall, but stoop to rise. - 24. We masters grow of all that we despise. - 25. Oh! then, renounce that impious self-esteem; - 26. Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream. - 27. Think not ambition wise because ’tis brave, - 28. The path of glory leads but to the grave. - 29. What is ambition? ’Tis a glorious cheat, - 30. Only destructive to the brave and great. - 31. What’s all the gaudy glitter of a crown? - 32. The way to bliss lies not on beds of down. - 33. How long we live, not years, but actions tell; - 34. That man lives twice who lives the first life well. - 35. Make, then, while yet ye may, your God your friend, - 36. Whom Christians worship, yet not comprehend. - 37. The trust that’s given guard, and to yourself be just; - 38. For, live we how we can, yet die we must. - -1, Young; 2, Dr. Johnson; 3, Pope; 4, Prior; 5, Sewell; 6, Spenser; -7, Daniel; 8, Sir Walter Raleigh; 9, Longfellow; 10, Southwell; 11, -Congreve; 12, Churchill; 13, Rochester; 14, Armstrong; 15, Milton; -16, Baily; 17, Trench; 18, Somerville; 19, Thompson; 20, Byron; 21, -Smollett; 22, Crabbe; 23, Massinger; 24, Crowley; 25, Beattie; 26, -Cowper; 27, Sir Walter Davenant; 28, Gray; 29, Willis; 30, Addison; -31, Dryden; 32, Francis Quarles; 33, Watkins; 34, Herrick; 35, William -Mason; 36, Hill; 37, Dana; 38, Shakespeare. - - - - -LITTLE LENA. - - -DID the Pansies read in the papers about Lena Haupt? - -She was only five years old when her mother died, and three months -afterwards her father, who had kept her with him by the kind help of a -neighbor, fell from a building where he had been working, and was so -badly injured that in a short time he died. He had his little girl with -him a few hours before his death, and explained to her as well as he -could that he was going where her mamma had gone, but could not take -her with him yet. She must be a good little girl; she had an uncle and -aunt and little cousins in Chicago, and they would take care of her and -love her if she was good. - -Only a few days after that Lena started alone on her long journey. Her -uncle had telegraphed to “send her on,” and he would meet her at the -Chicago depot. There was a card tied around her neck by a ribbon, and -on the card was written: “Please take care of me.” There was a letter, -also, fastened to the same ribbon, which told Lena’s sad little story, -and asked the passengers to be kind to her, but to please not give her -any candy. She had a wee purse fastened to the buckle of her belt which -had nearly two dollars in it. - -As for her ticket, it had been bought and paid for, and the conductor -had it in charge. Before night of that long day almost every passenger -on the crowded train had called on Lena, and her wee purse was filled -to its utmost capacity with shining quarters and half-dollars. She -herself made a great many journeys in the porter’s arms to the parlor -car, to visit with some ladies. And at last, as night was coming -on, and Lena’s eyes were beginning to droop, and the conductor was -considering how he could make her comfortable for the night, came a -lady and gentleman and begged to have her transferred to their sleeper, -where they bought a berth for her and put her to bed. - -[Illustration: IN THE MIDST OF HARVEST.] - -And all along the line little Lena found loving friends. I think her -father and mother in Heaven must have been glad to see how warm were -the hearts of even strangers toward their darling. - - - - -POSITIVE PEOPLE. - - -I WANT to call the attention of all Pansies to a statement made by -Benjamin Franklin in his story of his life. He says he tried to form -the habit of expressing himself always with great modesty. He was -careful not to use the word “certainly” or “undoubtedly,” or any of -those words which give an air of positiveness, when the subject was one -which might be disputed. He tried always to say, “It appears to me,” -or “If I am not mistaken,” or “I should think that,” etc. He declared -this habit to be of great use to him in persuading others to think as -he did, and that moreover it gave him a chance to learn a great deal -more than he would otherwise have had; for he said he had noticed that -people did not care to give information to those who acted as though -they already knew all that it was possible to learn. - -In many respects Benjamin Franklin was a wise man, and perhaps in no -small way could he have shown his knowledge of human nature better -than by adopting such rules. But I really do not think he has many -followers. Just watch the conversation of even quite young people for -awhile, with this thought in mind, and see how many of them seem to be -absolutely sure of their position, even in regard to subjects where -wise men differ. If we could have more doubt about things which have -not yet been decided, and more certainty about things which God and the -Bible have decided for us, we should have a much better, as well as a -much pleasanter world. - - HANNAH HEARALL. - - - - -OFF FOR BOYLAND. - - -HO! All aboard? A traveler Sets sail from Babyland! Before my eyes -there comes a blur; But still I kiss my hand, And try to smile as off -he goes, My bonny, winsome boy! Yes, _bon voyage_! God only knows How -much I wish thee joy! - -Oh! tell me; have you heard of him? He wore a sailor’s hat All -silver-corded round the brim, And—stranger e’en than that— A wondrous -suit of navy blue, With pockets deep and wide; Oh! tell me, sailors, -tell me true, How fares he on the tide? - -We’ve now no baby in the house; ’Twas but this very morn, He doffed his -dainty ’broidered blouse, With skirts of snowy lawn; And shook a mass -of silken curls From off his sunny brow; They fretted him—“so like a -girl’s,” Mamma can have them now. - -He owned a brand-new pocket-book, But that he could not find; A knife -and string were all he took. What did he leave behind? A heap of -blocks, with letters gay, And here and there a toy; I cannot pick them -up to-day, My heart is with my boy. - -Ho! Ship ahoy! At boyhood’s town Cast anchor strong and deep. What! -tears upon this little gown, Left for mamma to keep? Weep not, but -smile; for through the air A merry message rings— “Just sell it to the -rag man there; I’ve done with baby things!” EMMA HUNTINGTON NASON. */ - -[Illustration: ON THE LOOKOUT.] - - - - -THE OLD WORLD TOO. - - -AMERICA is still the “New World.” Each day pick up something new about -it. It is your world now. But there is an “Old World.” You must know -about that too. If you could go and see it, so much the better. The -eye is a little contrivance, but large enough to take in all England, -Ireland, Scotland and any other land it gets a chance to see. - -If you go abroad you must sail. There is no railroad or cable to -carry you yet. A hundred years hence people may cross the Atlantic in -balloons. But you can’t wait so long. Why should you? Here is the good -ship Majestic—not exactly the one shown in the picture on the first -page—which will take you over from New York to Liverpool in less than -six days. - -Once it took weeks. Sometimes a big iceberg came sailing along right -across the ship’s path. Then there was a crash. Perhaps the poor little -ship went to splinters and the passengers—well, you know what happened -then. Sometimes a dreadful storm came down upon the ocean and the waves -went up and down, looking like mountains and valleys. Not every frail -ship could stand it. There was a wreck. But in spite of all these -dreadful things most passengers get there and see the sights, and have -a good time and get safely home. A friend has crossed the Atlantic -nearly seventy times safely. - - L. - - - - -CASHMERE SHAWLS. - - -IT is said that sixteen thousand looms are kept in constant employment -in Cashmere, producing annually about thirty thousand shawls. The -shawls are woven on rudely-constructed looms, a pair of shawls -sometimes occupying three or four men a whole year in weaving. The -Cashmere goat, which furnishes the material, is found in Thibet, the -hair of it being fine, silky and about eighteen inches long. It takes -the fleece of ten goats to manufacture a shawl a yard and a half -square.—_Selected._ - - - - -MAJOR’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY. - -VI. - - -WHILE the folks are gone to the fair, and we have nothing to do but -watch around the place and see that no tramp gets in, we might as -well have a good time, and I will tell you about my brother Nero. You -must not forget, though, but keep eyes, ears and nose open while I am -talking. - -To begin with, there was a very large family of us, or would have been -if we had all been kept together. There were brothers and sisters -older, and a good many younger than we. We were of the same age, and -there were three others just our age, too; but they had gone to live -with other families, and Nero and I were all there were left with -mother. Poor, dear mother! I remember well how she used to feel when -her children were taken away from her, though I was too young at that -time to realize it. - -When we were alone she would sigh, and many a tear have I seen fall -from her eyes, as she would lap us and think of her darlings whose -faces she knew not that she would ever see again. - -She, poor mother, seemed to lavish all her love upon us after the other -three were gone. - -Mr. Bryant, our master, had a daughter—only one—whose name was Fanny. -Her father and mother seemed to think the world of her; and the thing -that puzzled mother was, that Mrs. Bryant, being a mother herself, -should not feel more for her four-footed friend, who was a mother also. -She fed us enough, and never abused us in the ways in which so many -abuse their dogs; but when it came to parting mother and children it -never seemed to occur to her that a mother with four feet, and that -couldn’t talk, could have any motherly feelings, or care what became of -her little ones. - -I remember little Fanny was not so. She would cry every time one of my -brothers or sisters was taken away, and after one was gone would come -out with us and put her arms around mother’s silky neck and cry as -though her heart would break. - -Well, one day while we were quite small a man came to the house. I -think he was some kind of agent. He saw mother, and could not help -admiring her glossy coat and beautiful eyes, and so was anxious to -get one of our family. He wanted mother herself, but soon found that -money could not buy her. Fanny overheard them talking about us, and -then slipped quietly out of the room, and came in great haste to where -we were, and with one of us under each arm fled to a place of safety. -Down through the orchard she went till she came to an old building -which was used to store hay in; there, in a hole which she and some -of her playmates had made to hide in, she put us, and covered us up -with soft straw, and fixed it so that we could not possibly crawl out, -then closed the door and went off under a sweet apple-tree to hunt for -apples as though nothing had happened. - -Now I suppose men will think she did not act just as she should, and -perhaps she was guilty of disobedience for not telling where we were -when they were hunting for us; but we were very grateful to her, and -whined with delight when we heard the man drive away, and learned that -he was not likely to come over that road again. - -Fanny felt badly about it, and that night when she was going to bed -told her mother what she had done, crying almost as hard as though we -had been sold. - -Fanny’s mother explained to her how it was wicked to be disobedient, -and that it was disobedience to not do what she would be required to -do, if all the circumstances were known, and that doing wrong that good -might come of it was never right. - -Then after Fanny was asleep her mother told Mr. Bryant why they had -failed to find us, and after he heard the whole story he said: “Bless -her dear heart; for her sake we will keep the little fellows, and Bess” -(that was mother’s name) “will look at us with less sadness in her -great eyes.” - -So Mrs. Bryant told Fanny that they had decided to keep us both until -we were much bigger, at least, and she need not worry any more about -our being sold. - -When they told mother you should have seen her leap for joy; she sprang -up upon her hind feet, and put her fore paws upon Mr. Bryant’s breast, -forgetting in her great joy that her feet were not clean; but he, good -man, only patted her and let her lick his cheek, and called her “Good -old Bess,” and then told her to go and look after her children and give -them their supper. - -I heard her say to one of the neighbors some months after, as she was -telling her experience with us, that that was the first time she had -lain down with any peace of mind for weeks. - -Well, the bigger we grew the more Fanny loved us, and so we did her. We -never let her go down in the orchard, or out into the woods, or to fish -in the brook but what we went with her, and we drove everything and -everybody away, unless she told us not to. - -After awhile she decided that she wanted one of us in her room nights. -To that arrangement her mother at first strongly objected; but her -father plead for her, and the mother finally consented. - -When the cold weather came on Fanny got a rug, and had Nero sleep on -that rug on the foot of her bed, “to keep her feet warm,” she said. - -This had been going on for some time when Mr. and Mrs. Bryant went out -to visit a neighbor’s at some kind of a gathering, and left mother and -me outside in our kennel to watch, and Nero to remain in the room with -our little friend Fanny. - -The hired man and the cook, instead of remaining at home as they were -expected to, went to spend the evening with a neighbor, thinking it -would be all right with Fanny, as she was asleep. But it had been -ironing day, and the clothes had been left hanging in the kitchen to -air, and how it was no one will ever know, but in some way they took -fire. Mother was the first to discover it, and began to bark with all -her might to awaken Fanny and Nero. I remember that I barked too, just -as hard and loud as I could. - -Soon Nero heard it, and began to feel that something must be the matter -somewhere. His first thought was that he ought to awaken his young -mistress, and he went at the job as best he knew. But she was too sound -asleep to be awakened by barking, do the best he could; so he sprang -upon her shoulder and began to pull at her nightdress, and finally took -her by the ear, and pulled so hard that it almost started the blood. -Then she awakened in a great fright, for a bright light was shining so -she could see everything in her room. - -Pulling on her shoes and stockings, and wrapping around her some of the -blankets from her bed, she opened the door, which fortunately was near -the stairs. - -With the help of Nero she made her way through the smoke to the street, -about the time the neighbors began to arrive. They were too late to -have been of any help to Fanny, for the flames would have overtaken -her before they reached there, but for Nero. By the time Mr. and Mrs. -Bryant reached home the house was far gone. When they saw the flames -they seemed almost crazy with fright; for they remembered that they had -left their only child asleep in the second story. It was some minutes -before they could be made to understand that Fanny was safe. - -She and Nero had been hurried to the house of a neighbor, and when they -found them Fanny had her arms around Nero’s neck. - -When Fanny was being tucked into bed for a second time that night she -said to her mother: “Are you not glad that I kept Nero from being sold? -Because if he had not been there to wake me up you wouldn’t have had -any little girl now.” - -From that time Nero was a great pet, and I was very proud of him, -though I could not help being a little bit vexed because nobody gave -mother and me any credit for awakening him. One day I said something -about it to her, and she said: “Never mind, Major; we know ourselves -that we did our duty, and that is the important thing.” - - R. - -[Illustration: SOME OF OUR EARLIEST SETTLERS.] - -[Illustration: A “MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM.”] - - - - -HOW TO MAKE A SCREEN BAG. - -(_Something for Mamma._) - - -IT is my opinion that the little girl who makes this convenient thing -which I am about to describe, will need to have an accommodating -brother who owns a box of tools and knows how to use them. Or she may -have a good friend among the carpenters who are at work on the next -corner. Still another way would be to get papa enlisted and agree to -divide mamma’s birthday present with him; that is, let him share the -honor of getting it up. - -However that part may be managed here is yours, my dear, industrious -little girl. - -The name of the article is Screen Bag. I have no doubt you know how -fond mamma is of bags, of all shapes and sizes, for keeping her -unmended stockings, or perhaps, more truthfully speaking, your and your -brothers’ and sisters’ unmended stockings, for balls of cord, and rolls -of tape, and papers of hooks and eyes, and I have not room to tell how -many other things. Well, this Screen Bag is just the thing. First get -your frames made of common pine wood, three of them, of about the right -height to furnish a comfortable screen for mamma if she wishes to keep -the wind from blowing on her, or the firelight from burning her face. -Indeed, you must decide where she will be likely to want to use the -screen, and plan its size accordingly. Then you want some bright cloth -of a pretty color; perhaps red, if that harmonizes best with the colors -in your mother’s room, or possibly blue or a soft rich brown; what you -will, so that it is strong. Cretonne is good, so is the striped cotton -furniture cloth which may be found at any upholsterer’s, and in nearly -all large city stores. You want two kinds; one for the front and one -for the back of your screen. The back or lining side need not be made -of such strong material. English cambric or common calico will do -nicely. Of course the amount of material needed will depend upon the -size of your frames; some careful measurements with a tape line will -be necessary. Now get your “pockets” ready, as many as you have room -for, and of whatever size you think the most useful. The first or lower -row should be a little larger than the ones above. The screen I have -in mind had two good-sized pockets below, three smaller ones above, -four above them, and five tiny ones at the top. These may be made of -the same cloth as the screen, or of different colors, according to your -taste and the variety of material at command. They should be hemmed -neatly at the top and stitched firmly to the cloth; first basted, then -sewed in the machine, to insure strength; or, if you do not understand -a sewing machine, and want to do all the work yourself, you can take -strong thread, and make a back stitch for every third or fourth one, -and do the whole by hand. - -Now you want some brass-headed nails—round heads, you know. Finally, -your frames are ready for the brass hinges on which they are to swing. -You will need four of these, and when they are screwed into their -places your Bag Screen will be finished. Fifty-two pockets! My word for -it, if your mamma does not feel richer than she ever did in her life, -after she has her conveniences packed away in those delightful pockets, -which besides holding them, are at work screening her from the heat, or -sun, or wind, I shall be very much astonished. - -I shall hope to hear that some of the Pansies have tried this -experiment. - - PANSY. - - - - -ABOUT MINNEAPOLIS. - -BY THE PANSIES. - - -A GOOD many years ago there used to be a city named St. Anthony. It was -built on the east side of the Mississippi River; then a city grew up -on the west side named Minneapolis, and after awhile it swallowed St. -Anthony and made one big city of itself on both sides of the river. -I think St. Anthony would have been a prettier name for the city, on -account of the Falls of St. Anthony being right there. But Minneapolis -is pretty, too. I have never been there, but my brother has, and some -day he is going to take me a long journey all over the West; then we -will visit Minneapolis, and I will write to the Pansies about it. - - HELEN M. LEEDS. - - * * * * * - -THE flouring mills of Minneapolis are the largest in the world. They -can make thirty-eight thousand barrels of flour in a day if they want -to; and I guess they want to, for their flour is famous all over the -country. I order flour for my grandmother, and she won’t have a barrel -which does not say “Minneapolis” on it. I should think the coopers -would all get rich out there. I read in a book that in one year they -sold pretty nearly three million barrels! - - JOHN WILLIS LEEDS. - - * * * * * - -I DON’T know what I can write about Minneapolis. I think it is just -like any other great big city, with electric lights, and street cars, -and parks, and all those things, of course. I think cities are all -alike; I like the country myself. But Minneapolis grows faster than -many cities do. My grandfather was there in 1860, and there were -only about six thousand inhabitants; now there are two hundred and -twenty-five thousand. Some say more, but I think that is enough. - - HARVEY CAMPBELL. - - * * * * * - -I AM so glad it has come time to write about Minneapolis, because I -went there myself only a year ago. I do think it is the loveliest -place I was ever in. It seems more like a great big beautiful town -than a city. The houses are not crowded together in great ugly-looking -brick rows, all just alike, as they are in Philadelphia, and on some -streets in New York; but almost all of them have lovely grounds, and -trees, and flowers, and pretty lawns. Oh! I liked it all so much. We -had a picnic out at the Falls of Minnehaha, the prettiest place I ever -saw in my life. There is a magnificent park out there of more than a -hundred acres, and the drive all the way through the city to the park -is perfectly beautiful. Then of course the falls themselves are just -too lovely! We had Mr. Dickson the elocutionist with us, and after -lunch he recited parts of Longfellow’s poem about “Minnehaha, Laughing -Water.” I had never read “Hiawatha” then, but I have since, and I know -several pages of it by heart. But you cannot think how lovely it was -to have Mr. Dickson recite it right at the falls. We took a great many -lovely drives while we were in the city. We stopped at West Hotel, -which is one of the finest in the United States, or for that matter in -the world. It can accommodate twelve hundred guests, and it seemed as -though there must be that number in the house while we were there. When -we met in the great dining-room it seemed queer to think that there -were more people there than can be found in the village where I live. -Still I like our little village in the summer, and would not exchange -it for a city. I would like to describe West Hotel, but I cannot, -except to say that the furniture was grand, and everything was elegant. -We rode past Senator Washburn’s house a great many times. It is out on -Twenty-second Street and Third Avenue, and has ten acres of the most -charming grounds, so that it is just the same to him as living in the -country. The house is built of a kind of stone which is called kasota, -and is very beautiful. I did not mean to make my letter so long, but -there is a great deal to tell. - - ALICE WASHBURNE MILLS. - - * * * * * - -I HAVE an aunt who is very fond of visiting churches. When she goes to -a new place, if it is only a village, she wants to see all the churches -and know about them. When she was in Minneapolis first, years ago, it -was a little bit of a place, and my aunt is an old lady, and does not -read the newspapers much, and did not realize that Minneapolis had -grown a great deal. She went there last spring to visit a nephew. She -reached there in the night, and was taken in a carriage to her nephew’s -house, and did not realize the changes at all. The next morning at -breakfast, when her nephew asked her what she would like to see in the -city, she said she would like to visit the different churches if she -could, and that perhaps as the day was pleasant they could go that -morning. - -[Illustration: CITY HALL AND COURT SQUARE.] - -“Very well,” said her nephew; “to which ones shall we go?” - -“Oh! to all of them,” answered my aunt; “we can take a few minutes for -each and see them all this forenoon, can we not?” - -“Certainly,” said her nephew; “just as well as not. There are only -about a hundred and sixty, I believe.” - -And that was the first time my aunt knew that she was in a big city -instead of the little town she had left thirty years or so before. But -I don’t think her nephew was very polite to an old lady. She saw a good -many of the churches, among them Dr. Wayland Hoyt’s, which she said she -liked the best of all. It is the First Baptist Church of Minneapolis, -and cost two hundred thousand dollars. It will seat about fifteen -hundred people. I thought the Pansies would like to hear about it, -because Dr. Hoyt wrote one of our “Regret” letters for us. - - MINNIE ANDREWS. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: PUBLIC LIBRARY.] - -MY uncle is a lawyer and lives in Minneapolis. He says the City Hall -is just splendid. It cost three million dollars. Its great tower is -three hundred and forty-five feet high, and there are only two others -in the United States which can get above that. There isn’t any danger -that this building will ever burn up, for it is made fire proof. I -wonder why they don’t make all buildings fire proof? Then we would not -have to buy engines, and pay firemen, and keep great splendid horses -doing nothing all day long but wait for fires. This City Hall which I -began to tell you about is three hundred feet square, and fills up a -great block on four streets. I should like to see it. My uncle has a -photograph of it, and it looks magnificent. I am going to be a lawyer, -and I shall have an office in Minneapolis. - - HARRY DENNING. - - * * * * * - -MY father was acquainted with Governor Washburn, who gave three hundred -and seventy-five thousand dollars for the Washburn Memorial Orphan -Asylum in Minneapolis. My father has been there to see the asylum. -He says it is in a beautiful place, with lovely trees and plants in -the grounds. There were fifty-seven orphans there when father visited -it. I am glad they have such a nice place. I would like to be rich, -like Governor Washburn, and give lots of money to something. I think -I shall be, and I shall found an orphan asylum somewhere, but not in -Minneapolis, because they don’t need another. - - HORACE WEBSTER. - - * * * * * - -MINNEAPOLIS was started about the same time that St. Anthony was. They -grew about the same for awhile, then Minneapolis got to growing so fast -that about all which could be heard in that city was the pounding of -hammers. Afterwards St. Anthony and Minneapolis were united. - -Minneapolis was naturally a very pretty place, and until the last few -years it was called the prettiest city in Minnesota, but now St. Paul -is prettier. - - MILLIE ROWELL. - - * * * * * - -I ATTENDED the International Christian Endeavor Convention when it met -in Minneapolis. I was a Junior delegate. We had a splendid time. The -convention was held in the great Exposition building, which is three -hundred and fifty feet square. That is, they made a big hall for the -convention inside the building, and it held more than ten thousand -people. - -[Illustration: THE FALLS OF MINNEHAHA.] - -My sister and I visited the Public Library. It is a very handsome -building. They say it cost a good deal over three hundred thousand -dollars. We sat in one of the elegant reading-rooms and read books -while our uncle was looking up something in books of reference. There -are thousands and thousands of volumes there; I did know how many, but -have forgotten. The street cars in Minneapolis are all electric. My -sister did not like to ride on them when there was a thunderstorm, but -I was not afraid. There are lots of lakes all around that part of the -country, and of course the Falls of St. Anthony are there. It is queer -to have a splendid falls in the midst of a city. - -I think I like Minneapolis better than any place I was ever in. I may -go to stay with my uncle and attend the University of Minnesota, which -is there. That is what I want to do. If I go I shall know more about -Minneapolis, and will write again. - - THOMAS BAILEY ATWOOD. - - - - -THE OSBORNE HOME. - -(_Character Studies._) - - -ALL day long the Osborne home had been in a state of excitement. It -had been very difficult for the family to attend to its usual duties. -The little girls had at first declared that they could not go to -school at all; and then, being convinced that they must, it had been -nearly impossible to get them ready in time. Even the baby had caught -the unrest, and refused to take his long morning nap and give the -seventeen-year-old sister Mary a chance to attend to the work. The -explanation was that mother was coming home. She had been away a whole -month, an unheard-of thing in the history of the family before this -season. - -The fact is, Mrs. Osborne was one of those mothers who would never -have been persuaded to leave her home and her children had it not -become a serious duty to do so. She had been in poor health for several -months, and grandmamma had written and coaxed and urged, and at last -almost commanded that she should come back to the old home and the old -physician, and see if he could not help her. One terrible thing about -it was, that this same physician refused to allow her to bring her baby -along. “I know just how it will be,” he said, shaking his gray head -and looking wise. “The baby is a strong, healthy little fellow, and -a perfect tyrant as they all are, and he will be carried, and put to -sleep, and fed, and petted by his mother and nobody else; he will be -more positive about it than usual, being among strangers, and he will -just keep her worn out. There is no use in talking, Mrs. Fuller, I know -your daughter Mary of old, and I will not consent to try to help her -unless she will leave that fellow at home and come away from all care -for a month.” - -Well, the doctor had had his way, as he nearly always did, and Mrs. -Osborne, having declared that it would be utterly impossible to go away -from home and leave Baby and the little girls, and only Mary to look -after them all, had been gotten ready and carried to the cars. And a -whole month had passed, and she, wonderfully improved, was coming home -to-day. Father had driven to the depot three miles away to meet her, -and the house was in commotion. - -Mary, the housekeeper, nurse and mother-in-charge, had had a busy day. -There were still a dozen things which she meant to have done before -mother came, not the least among them being to get herself in order; -for her apron was torn, her slippers were down at the heel, her hair -was what her father called “frowsly,” and, in short, she did not look -in the least as she meant to when the mother should put her arms around -her. Then there were last things to be done all over the house, and -the table to be set for the early tea-dinner which was to do honor to -the traveler’s newly-found appetite. Yet, notwithstanding all this, -Mary, feeling sure that the time must now be short, allowed herself -to drop down into the chair which she had been dusting, draw from her -pocket the mother’s last letter, whose contents she knew by heart, and -glancing at it, go to studying for the dozenth time the possibility -that her mother might have meant the evening train instead of the -afternoon, in which case she would not be there for several hours. - -“Let me see; I almost believe that is the way, after all,” she said, -biting the feather end of the old quill which she had picked up -somewhere in her dusting, and looking vexed and disheartened. “I am -sure I don’t know how I am to keep the children from growing wild, if -they have to wait three hours longer.” - -Meantime, the children, in the other room, were in various stages of -excitement. Helen, the older of the three, in whose charge Baby Joe was -especially put, occupied herself in racing to the front gate every few -minutes to see if she could not get a glimpse of her father’s horse -and wagon climbing the hill; and Baby Joe, each time she went, either -reached after and tumbled over something which he ought not to have -touched, or tumbled down, in his eager haste to follow to the gate. In -this way the room was being put into more or less disorder. - -“How perfectly silly you are!” said Jessie, looking up from the book -she was reading, as Helen came back panting for the third time. “Just -as though racing to the gate every few minutes would bring them any -quicker! and look at Joe; he has tipped the spools all out of mother’s -box. A nice tangle they will be in.” - -“Why didn’t you keep him from them then?” asked Helen irritably; “you -are doing nothing but pore over a story book. I should think you would -go and comb your hair and change your dress. Mother will not like to -see you in such a tangle, I can tell you.” - -“There is time enough,” said Jessie, yawning. “I can’t do anything but -read a story book; it is impossible to settle to anything when mother -is so near home as she must be by this time. I haven’t done a thing -this afternoon; I couldn’t. I don’t see how Elsie can bend over that -stupid History, just as if nothing unusual was going to happen.” - -This made Elsie raise her eyes; they were pretty brown ones. She was a -little girl of about ten, in a neat blue dress, and with her hair in -perfect order. “I thought it would be a good plan to get my history -ready for to-morrow while I was waiting,” she said, “then I will not -have to study this evening, when I want to listen to mother. I should -think you would like to get your examples done; and anyhow, Jessie, you -ought to comb your hair; it looks like a fright.” - -“I mean to, of course,” said Jessie. “I dare say there is time enough. -Father can’t drive fast on such a warm afternoon; and besides, Mary -said she wouldn’t be at all surprised if he should have to wait for -the evening train. Wouldn’t that be just horrid! If it were not for -the lovely story I am reading I couldn’t endure this waiting another -minute.” - -“It’s easier to wait when you are at work doing what ought to be -done,” said Elsie, with the air of a philosopher. - -“Oh! you are a regular Miss Prim,” said Helen, laughing, as she stooped -to pick little Joe out of another piece of carefully planned mischief; -“for my part, I think it is horrid to have anything that ought to be -done at such a time. Joe, you little nuisance, I do wish you would go -to sleep, and give me a chance to watch for mother. I hope I shall get -all the things picked up and put to rights that you have upset before -mother comes; she will not be charmed with the looks of the room if I -don’t. However, there really must be oceans of time yet.” - -“Then why did you race down to the gate every few minutes to see if -they were coming?” Jessie asked. - -“Oh! because I did not know what else to do,” said Helen; “I knew -better, of course. Take care, Joe! There, I declare! he has done it -now.” - -Sure enough he had! Jerked at the table spread where Helen herself had -set the inkstand, intending to put it away in a few minutes, and sent -a black stream not only over his own white dress, but on the carpet -as well. Mary, who still sat studying the letter, and thinking of the -things which she meant to accomplish before her mother came, having by -this time decided that it was entirely probable that they must wait -for the evening train, heard the exclamations of dismay from the other -room, and rose up to see what was the trouble; but at that instant an -eager cry from Elsie: “There they come!” sounded on the ears of all. -Helen gathered up the screaming Joe under one arm, and calling to Mary -to look out for the ink on the carpet, ran out of one door, just as -Jessie scurried out of another, eager to dash upstairs and brush her -hair before her father saw her; for his last charge had been to her to -see to it that she did not appear before her mother in that plight. -Mary, burning with shame and disappointment over the little last things -which she meant to have ready, waited to mop up the ink, while Elsie, -closing the door on the disordered room, went forward to meet the -beloved mother. - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - -[Illustration: “LET ME SEE!”] - - - - -IN THE CABIN OF THE MAYFLOWER. - - -THIS is a company of Pilgrims in the cabin of the blessed ship -_Mayflower_, on their way over a stormy sea from Plymouth, England, to -find a place in America where they may worship God “according to the -dictates of their own consciences.” - -[Illustration: A COMPANY OF PILGRIMS.] - -This was two hundred and seventy years ago. Of course the people did -not dress then just as they do now, as you can well see by noticing -their broad collars and queer trousers. How queer our dress will look -to our great-grandchildren. - -The dear _Mayflower_ was not such a grand ship as the Cunarder. It -had to depend—not upon steam—but upon a favoring wind, and the wind -does not always seem to favor, so it took her weeks to cross the -stormy Atlantic, and the passengers (Puritans they were called) were -very sick; but because they had suffered so much from cruel people in -England they did not complain, as they believed God held the waves -in his hand, and he was guiding the _Mayflower_ as much as he did the -Israelites to Palestine—“a land flowing with milk and honey.” So they -patiently and cheerfully waited in the _Mayflower’s_ small cabin, often -singing hymns and praying and encouraging each other. - -At last on Monday, December 21, 1620, they landed on Plymouth Rock, -Mass., happy as birds escaped from a cage. - -They had much trouble with the Indians; but after a time they began to -build, with other Pilgrims, at other points, our great nation. - - L. - - * * * * * - -THERE is a woman living in Manchester, England, who is said to have a -Bible two feet long and nearly two feet wide. At the top of each page -is printed in red ink: “This is a history.” The Bible is two hundred -years old, and is the largest one in the world, it is supposed. - - - - -BABY’S CORNER. - -BABY’S CLOCK. - - -NOBODY finks I can tell the time of day, but I can. - -The first hour is five o’clock in the morning. - -That’s the time the birds begin to peep. I lie still and hear them sing: - - “Tweet, tweet, tweet! - Chee, chee, chee!” - -But mamma is fast asleep. Nobody awake in all the world but just me and -the birds. - -Bimeby the sun gets up and it’s six o’clock in the morning. - -[Illustration: BABY TELLS THE TIME OF DAY.] - -Then mamma opens one eye and I can hear her say: - -“Where’s my baby?” - -N’en I keep still—jus’ as still as a mouse, an’ she keeps saying: - -“Where’s my baby?” - -N’en all at once I go “Boo!” and she laughs and hugs me, and says “I’m -a precious.” - -Mamma’s nice, and I love her ’cept when she washes my face too hard and -pulls my hair with the comb. - -Seven o’clock! - -That’s when the bell goes jingle, jingle, and we have breakfast. - -All the eight an’ nine an’ ten an’ ’leven hours I play. - -I run after butterflies and squirrels, and swing, and read my picture -book, and sometimes I cry—jus’ a little bit. - -Twelve o’clock! - -That’s a bu’ful hour. The clock strikes a lot of times, and the big -whistle goes, and the bell rings, and papa comes home, and dinner’s -ready! - -The one and two hours are lost. Mamma always carries me off to take a -nap. I don’t like naps. They waste time. - -When we wake up the clock strikes three. N’en I have on my pink dress, -and we go walking or riding. - -And so the three and four and five hours are gone. - -At six o’clock Bossy comes home, and I have my drink of warm milk. - -N’en I put on my white gown, and kiss everybody “good-night,” and say -“Now I lay me,” and get into my bed. - -Mamma says: - -“Now the sun and the birdies and my little baby are all gone to bed, -and to sleep, sleep, sleep.” - -So I shut my eyes tight, and next you know ’tis morning! - -An’ ’nat’s all the time there is. - - MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON. - - - - -OCTOBER’S PARTY. - - - OCTOBER gave a party— - The leaves by hundreds came— - The Chestnuts, Oaks and Maples, - And leaves of every name; - - The sunshine spread a carpet, - And everything was grand; - Miss Weather led the dancing, - Professor Wind the band. - - The Chestnuts came in yellow, - The Oaks in crimson dressed; - The lovely Misses Maple - In scarlet looked their best. - - All balanced to their partners, - And gaily fluttered by; - The sight was like a rainbow - New-fallen from the sky. - - Then in the rustic hollows - At hide-and-seek they played. - The party closed at sundown, - And everybody staid. - - Professor Wind played louder, - They flew along the ground, - And then the party ended - In “hands across, all round.” - _From “Song Stories for Little People.”_ - -[Illustration: OCT.] - - - - -FIVE-MINUTE ACQUAINTANCES. - -(_Character Studies._) - - -IT was a bright cool morning that we were riding down Delaware Avenue -in a street car which had very few passengers. It gave me a chance to -study human nature. I began the study with a very handsomely dressed -boy. Jacket and collar and necktie and hair all showed that very -careful people had planned for him, and that they had plenty of money -to spend on him. They came into the car just after I was seated, the -boy and his mother. She was tall and pale, and in deep mourning; I -wondered if her husband were dead, and if this boy were the only one -she had to think about or care for her. If so she was to be pitied, -poor woman! for it soon became evident that the young man thought about -and cared for himself. His first exhibition was to fling his heavy -overcoat on his mother’s lap as he said: “Here, mamma, hold that, and -give me the tickets for the conductor.” - -“I haven’t tickets, dear,” she said; “I shall have to buy some.” - -“O, well! all right, give me your pocket-book and let me buy them.” - -“No, dear, there is a good deal of money in my pocket-book, and some -valuable papers.” - -“What of that?” he said, in a tone loud enough for all the passengers -to hear; “I ain’t going to lose them; don’t I know how to take care of -things? Give me the purse.” It was passed over without more words. - -“Take a quarter from the silver money,” the mother advised a moment -later. - -“O, no, mamma! I want to give him a bill, to see if he makes the right -change. Here’s a five; that will do; no, let me see.” He jerked his -arm suddenly away from the mother’s hand, which reached after the -pocket-book, and several pieces of silver flew out and rolled around on -the floor. - -“There!” he said, in a reproachful tone, “see what you have made me do; -now you have lost some of your money.” - -“Pick it up, Harold, that’s a good boy.” - -He stooped and picked up a twenty-five cent piece, then said: - -“Never mind the rest. It has rolled round under the seat somewhere, and -it is all dust; I can’t get down on my knees and hunt; never mind, let -it go. Say, mamma, give me that box of candy.” - -“Not now; I would rather you did not eat any more candy, Harold, until -we get home.” - -“Why not? I don’t want to wait; I haven’t eaten much. Come, it’s my -candy, and I want it. You bought it for me, and I think you are mean -not to let me have it.” - -“Hush, Harold! do not talk so loud. Hold your overcoat, dear; it is too -heavy for mamma.” - -“Oh! I can’t, it is too hot. I did not need that great big overcoat -anyhow, and I told you so. I’m not going to hold it. Drop it on the -floor if you don’t want to keep it. But give me that box of candy. -O, mamma! there’s a procession coming down the street—soldiers, and -everything. I’m going out on the platform to see them.” - -He made a dash forward, and the pale, anxious mother reached after -him, trying to arrest his steps, dropping as she did so not only the -overcoat, but the pocket-book again. The pennies and the ten-cent -pieces rolled around freely, while Harold, looking behind him, gave a -mocking laugh, and was out on the platform. - -They had not been in the car over five minutes. And yet I was quite as -well acquainted with Harold as I had any desire to be. - -At the North Street corner the pale little mother left the car with -the heavy overcoat over one arm, and the pocket-book, with what change -she had been able to find, in her hand, while Harold, tugging at her -sleeve, was heard to say, “Mamma, I want that candy this minute!” - -At Reed Street came three passengers, a boy about the size of the one -who had left us, and two little girls, one perhaps seven, and the other -not over four. The boy was freckled-faced, and by no means so handsome -as Harold. His clothes were very neat, but of the coarse, common -sort worn by children of the moderately poor. The little girls beside -him were as neat as wax—faces and hands and hair in perfect order; but -their sacks and hats were of last year’s fashion—perhaps older still -than that—and I fancy Harold would have laughed outright at the little -old overcoat which hung over the boy’s arm. - -[Illustration: A SHOCKING EXPERIENCE.] - -They took their seats quietly, and made no disturbance of any sort. But -there were so few in the car, and we were passing at that time through -such a quiet street, that I could hear distinctly the words they spoke -to one another. - -“Better put on your sack, Janie,” said the boy, with a thoughtful air, -looking at the older sister, “the wind blows in pretty strong here.” -Janie immediately arose and began tugging at her sack. The boy, with -the manners of a gentleman accustomed to the work, took hold of it -at the shoulders and skillfully steered the little arms into place, -pulling it down behind, and bestowing meanwhile side glances upon the -little sister. - -“Sit still, Bessie, that’s a good girl. No, don’t stand, dear; mamma -wouldn’t like you to stand, the cars shake so.” - -Down sat Bessie again, trying to put herself squarely on the seat. -Failing in this her protector turned next to her, lifted her plump -little form into place, then straightened her hat and returned a -confiding smile which she gave him. Meantime the car was filling -up, and in a few minutes every seat was taken. There came next a -middle-aged woman, black of face, and very shabby as to toilet, with a -market basket on her arm. Quick as thought the little gentleman arose, -and touching her arm motioned her to his seat. Then Janie reached -forward for his overcoat. “Let me hold your overcoat, Charlie,” she -said, “because you haven’t any seat.” - -“O, no!” said Charlie, smiling back at her, “I can carry it as well as -not. Bessie dear, don’t climb up that way, you will fall.” - -Down sat Bessie, who had mounted on her fat little knees to look out of -the window. - -“Now, Janie,” said the little man at last, when they were near the -Dean Street crossing, “we are to get out at this corner. I will take -Bessie’s hand and go ahead, and you keep close to me. We will stand -still on the sidewalk until the car passes, then I will take you both -across.” - -Away they went, and I watched them making their way carefully across -the crowded street, the brother’s arm thrown protectingly around -Bessie, and his eyes on the watch for any possible danger to either of -his charges. I had made his acquaintance in five minutes, too, and knew -more about him than he would have imagined possible. - - MYRA SPAFFORD. - - - - -THINGS WHICH SOME PEOPLE REGRET. - - -THE “Regret” which we give you this month comes from a very high -source. Almost every scholar of ancient languages will recognize the -name. It is a very pleasant thought that these great men out of their -busy lives have stopped to give us a glimpse of their past, in order -to help the young people of to-day, who will be the men and women -of to-morrow, to avoid the mistakes which they did not. We hope and -believe that the Pansies will receive great benefit from these glimpses -from the youth of great people. - - “I regret that I have not better acquired the art of - pleasantly acknowledging the kindnesses shown me, and - of showing my appreciation of people whom I really do - appreciate. My influence with many would be greatly - increased if I could but make them understand how - warmly my heart goes out to them.” - - WILLIS J. BEECHER. - - DR. W. J. BEECHER, _Professor of Hebrew in Auburn - Theological Seminary_. - - - - -(_Luke_ ix. 23; xiv. 27.) - - - AND didst thou hear the Master say - He that would my disciple be, - Let him deny himself each day, - Take up his cross, and follow me? - Oh! wondrous love, that did devise - For us this “straight and narrow way,” - Beyond which, in the distance, lies - The realms of pure and perfect day. - -[Illustration: THE UPS AND DOWNS OF LIFE.] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -A HAPPY BOY. - - -HIS name is Willie Addis, and he lives in Plainfield, N. J. A few -weeks ago his mother turned down the wicks of her kerosene stove, and -leaned over it to blow out the flame, when the stove exploded, and in -an instant she was in flames. With one bound Willie was in the kitchen, -seizing the large woolen mat from the floor as he ran, and in less time -than it takes me to tell it, he had wrapped the mat about his mother -and extinguished the flames! The kitchen furniture was burned, but -that was about all, and the dear mother was saved by her quick-witted -ten-year-old son, who had heard somewhere that woolen wrapped closely -about a burning object so as to exclude the air, will put out the fire. -It is not every boy of his age who knows that fact; and there are many -who, knowing it, would not have had presence of mind enough to have -applied their knowledge promptly. Willie did, and he has his mother. -Certainly I think he must be a happy boy, and I am sure she is a glad, -proud mother. - -How is one to help hoping and praying that he may never be other than a -joy to her in the years to come? - - - - -MAJOR’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY. - - -I AM very fond of the little ones, and like to have them around me, -and as the puppies are in the majority it will be their turn to have a -short story this time. - -If you do not have to go home too soon perhaps I will have time to tell -you more than one; we will see. Oh! the children are to stay to tea, -are they? All right. Now, attention! - -All those who would like to hear a story about a chicken—“a real truly -story,” as the children say—wag your tails. - -Those opposed, bark. Carried. The vote for the chicken story is about -unanimous. - -I suppose some of you have very poor opinions of chickens and hens; you -think because they have but two legs, and are so easily frightened, -they don’t amount to much; but the master and mistress think quite -differently when they eat the nice fresh eggs which the hens furnish. -Why, some of those proud young crowers have hearts as well as we. I -remember so well a little old white blind hen which my master once had, -and how kindly she was treated. (She could see just a little with one -eye, but we called her blind.) - -The young man who worked upon the place took a fancy to “Old Whitey,” -as they called her, and when master wanted to send her to market this -fellow pretended he couldn’t find her, so she was kept till very old. - -The gallant young crowers which roosted in the same shed with her would -never fight this old “grandmother,” but were just as kind to her as -they knew how to be. Sometimes when one of them had found a nice lot of -worms under something he had scratched over, “Whitey” would come along -hungry, and he would leave the nice mess for her, and look further for -himself. - -Was not that gallant and kind? Would all of you do as well as that? Be -as unselfish? - -But this is not the chicken I was to tell you about. He was a poor -orphan, his mother having died when he was but a little yellow ball -upon two little pins of legs. - -[Illustration: AN ORIENTAL SHEPHERD.] - -I had not much to do with this pet, only as I visited his home -occasionally, and saw and played with him a little. - -It was my cousin Tip who had most to do with this bright feathered -fellow, and to whom he was indebted for most of his education. - -Tip was a great favorite; in fact, his mistress was fond of all sorts -of pets; had a name for each of her cows, and for every one of her -hens, so she had a name for this chicken. - -Tip used to go about wherever he pleased, and so did the chicken. My -cousin was in the habit of taking almost anything he could find, and -dragging it to the spot where he wished to lie, then make a bed of it -and go to sleep. - -His little friend the chicken for awhile watched him with envious -eyes—for I regret to say Cousin Tip was too selfish to provide a bed -for any one besides himself. - -But this chicken evidently thought “what had been done could be done,” -so he asserted his independence, and gathered up what he could carry or -drag; put the articles—stockings, handkerchiefs or rags—in a heap near -Tip’s bed, and would then tread them down as he had seen Tip do, and -squat upon them for a make-believe nap. Now wasn’t that a pretty bright -chicken, and was not Tip a pretty successful teacher for one so young? - -No, that lesson wouldn’t be much for a bright little dog to learn; but -we do not expect much intelligence in a hen or rooster. - -I suppose they cannot understand what people say to them as we do. And -some people do not seem to think we understand what they tell us to do -or not to do, even when they tell us we have done well. - -I remember so well when I was young, though almost as large as I am -now, how I astonished a lady by acting as though I understood what she -said to me. - -It was in the country, where the houses were quite a distance apart. I -had been caring for this woman’s little girl for more than a week, and -had kept her out of lots of mischief, and prevented her from getting -many an ugly fall, though I had never been asked to do it. - -One day little Cynthia (that was her name) wanted to go over to see her -grandmother, who lived in the next house, nearly a quarter of a mile -away. The mother told her there was no one to go with her. She said she -could go alone, and coaxed so hard that the mother said she might go. -So Cynthia put her little hat on, and her mother kissed her good-by, -and she started. Then her mother turned to me and said: “Major, you go -with her and take good care of my darling; don’t you let anything hurt -her.” - -How proud I was! I went right by her side all the way, and never left -her for one moment until she was safe at home. - -Then the lady called me a “good, faithful fellow,” and I was very -happy. But when the men came in at night and she told them what I had -done, I felt ashamed to hear her say, “He acted just as though he knew -what I told him.” - -The idea! Why shouldn’t I understand, I would like to know? They talk -about things which I do not understand, but when they give me such a -plain direction as that I guess I can hear it, and know what they mean, -too. - -There goes the whistle, and you must scamper. Good-by! - - G. R. A. - - - - -A CAREFUL MOTHER. - - -A TRUSTWORTHY writer in one of our exchanges says that last summer near -his room a humming-bird built her tiny nest and reared her family. One -day when there was a heavy shower coming up, just as the first drops -fell the mother came fluttering home, seized a large leaf which grew on -the tree near her nest, drew it over the nest in a way to completely -cover it, then went back to whatever work she had been about when -the coming storm disturbed her. The amused watchers from the window -wondered why the leaf did not blow away, and finally reached out and -examined it; they found it hooked to a tiny stick which was just inside -the nest, as if it had been built in for that purpose! The storm lasted -but a few minutes, and after it was over home came the mother, unhooked -the green curtain she had so carefully put up, and found her babies -perfectly dry. - -[Illustration: WHICH WILL GET IT?] - - - - -CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR SAINTS. - -(_Something for Mamma._) - - -NOT something to make, this time, but to buy. It is a lovely new book -bound in blue and silver, and the title is “Christian Endeavor Saints.” - -It is written by Dr. F. E. Clark, the father of all the Christian -Endeavor societies. If your mamma is not a member of that society it -will make no difference, she will like the book very much; it has a -great many short bright articles in it, not too long for a busy mother -to read when she sits down for a minute or two of rest. The first part -of the book has short letters addressed to different saints. - -One, for instance, to “St. Neighborly,” another to “St. Hopeful,” -another to “St. Speakwell,” and so on. - -Then there are many “Golden Rule Recipes” for the cure of all sorts of -troubles, as well as what is perhaps better, for the prevention of many. - -Let me give you one which is called: - - -A RECIPE FOR A HAPPY DAY. - - “At the very beginning of the day take a large - amount of good nature, and double the quantity of - determination to make the best of things, a heaping - measure of bodily vigor, and mix well in the mortar - of gratitude with the pestle of the remembrance of - past mercies. A season of prayer and praise is always - necessary to the proper mixture of these ingredients. - Then add to this a considerable, but not too large, - portion of well-regulated tongue, a slice of charity - that thinketh no evil and is not easily provoked, a - portion of hopefulness for the future, and a large - measure of faith in God and fellowmen. Season this with - the salt of shrewdness and thrift, and sweeten with - plenty of the sugar of love for all God’s creatures. - Put in a large handful of plums of parental or filial - affection, and a number of pieces of neighborly - friendliness; and somewhere in the day conceal one - special service for the Lord’s poor. Slide this - good deed into the mixture quietly, without saying - anything about it. Do not use any of the sour milk of - disappointed hopes, or brooding cares, for this will - spoil the whole; and while there should be a pinch - of the pepper of fun, and considerable sweet oil of - joviality, do not use any of the mustard of backbiting, - or the table sauce of slander. - - “Let the mixture boil gently, but do not let it boil - over, for the delicate flavor of the ingredients is - injured by too much heat. - - “This recipe has been tried in a hundred thousand - households, and has never been known to fail.” - -There are many more recipes quite as unique and as helpful as this. - -Then follows a series of “Golden Rule Sermons” on all sorts of -important topics, such as “Getting Muddled with the Unimportant,” on -“Living as we Sing,” on “Poor Excuses,” and the like. Finally there -are letters addressed to “Grandmother Lois,” “Mrs. Neataswax,” “Miss -Youngheart,” “Mrs. Vitriol,” and a host of other people whom we have -met. - -From one, addressed to “The Birds that can Sing, and won’t Sing,” I -want to quote a little: - - MY DEAR BIRDS: - - “I watched you last Wednesday evening in the mid-week - prayer meeting, and none of you moved your lips, even - when we sang ‘Rock of Ages’ and ‘Jesus, Lover of my - Soul.’ The singing was weak and languid and thin, when - your voices might have put body and life and strength - into it. I know that you can sing if you have a mind - to, for do I not hear you every Sunday in the church - choir? . . . Did I not hear you sing, too, at Miss Flora - McFlimsey’s birthday party the other evening? Yes, - indeed; you gathered around the piano, and the way - you warbled forth the glees and college songs did my - heart good. But there you were at the church prayer - meeting, members of the church, members of the Society - of Christian Endeavor; you had promised more than once - to do your duty faithfully, and yet you kept still, - simply because the singing wasn’t very artistic, or - because somebody behind you ‘screeched so,’ as you - inelegantly expressed it, or because the old deacon on - the front seat dragged, and ‘put you all out.’ Now, my - dear birds, pardon the plain words of an old man, and - your pastor at that. The prayer meeting singing is just - as important a part of worship, and just as acceptable - in God’s sight, as your choir or solo singing with all - its frills and furbelows. The ‘screecher’ and the old - deacon are both doing the best they can; and if you - did the best you could their voices would not be so - prominent, and the music would be far better. Then, - too, do you not think it indicates a little touch of - conceit to sing only when your voices will show off to - advantage, and let the poor prayer meeting suffer for - lack of them? I am sure, my dear birds, that you never - thought of the matter in that light, for after all you - mean to be conscientious as well as tuneful birds; and - I am quite confident that when, next Wednesday evening, - I give out ‘Rock of Ages,’ you will ‘raise it’ on your - clear strong voices, and give the prayer meeting such a - start and uplift as it has not had for many a day.” - -I did not mean to quote it all, but it was so good I could not find a -place to stop. I think you will enjoy it, and so will mamma, or your -older sister, or indeed any one who loves to read bright, pure, helpful -thoughts. - -The book has about two hundred and fifty pages. I really do not know -how much it costs, but your bookseller can easily find out for you. - - PANSY. - - - - -THE HARD TEXT. - -(_Matt._ xviii. 2.) - - -NOW does this mean that all children are good Christians, and are -surely in the Kingdom of Heaven? But you know many who are not good. -They are profane; they break the Sabbath, and all the other holy -commands of God. Some are so very bad that their parents send them to -reformatories, which are a sort of prison. - -Some years ago a boy by the name of Jesse Pomeroy, when he was quite -young, began to torture children when he could get them into his power. -As he grew a little older and stronger he would get children away from -home and lead them out into some desolate place, and bind them to a -tree and do dreadful things to them. - -It is thought that this wicked boy caused the death of several children. - -There are more Jesse Pomeroys. Jesus did not mean that all children are -perfectly good. Indeed every one—children, too—must be born again—that -is, converted—to get into the Kingdom of Heaven. - -What, then, did Jesus mean in this verse? Why, simply that all must -“humble” themselves; must repent and trust in him to be saved. Every -true child is ready to do this, much more so than grown-up folks. - -Grown-up people do not like to confess that they are sinners. They—most -of them—refuse to humble themselves, as most very young folks do. - -Now have you really humbled yourself? - - L. - - * * * * * - - ’TIS easy to be gentle when - Death’s silence shames our clamor, - And easy to discern the best - Through memory’s mystic glamour; - But wise it were for thee and me, - Ere love is past forgiving, - To take the tender lesson home— - Be patient with the living. - —_Selected._ - - - - -ABOUT ST. LOUIS. - -BY THE PANSIES. - - -THE biggest thing in St. Louis is the bridge by which you get to it. It -has three arches, each over five hundred feet long, and it makes a road -over fifty feet wide. My uncle says it is a big thing, and he knows, -for he is a bridge builder. There is a tunnel under it, and a railroad -track. I rode into St. Louis once through this tunnel; it is a mile -long. It is lighted with electricity, and they say it has ventilating -shafts; but they don’t give you much air to breathe, that I know. -Father had to fan mother every minute, and we were afraid she would -faint. I think I should have found it hard work to breathe myself, if I -hadn’t been so dreadfully worried about mother that I forgot all about -it. But for all that it is a splendid thing—the tunnel is, I mean. The -piers of the bridge are built on a rock, and they go down more than a -hundred feet below the surface. This bridge cost over six millions of -dollars. I could tell you more things, for I staid in St. Louis a whole -week, but mother says my letter is long enough. - - WILLARD J. MOONEY. - - * * * * * - -ALL the Pansies tell how the city they are writing about got its name. -I cannot find out about St. Louis, but I know the first settlement -there was made by Pierre Laclede Liguest. I was wondering if they did -not put pieces of his queer name together, and make a word which in -time came to be St. Louis? Anyhow, I am glad they did not name the -place for him, it would have been so hard to pronounce. That is only -about a hundred and thirty years ago. St. Louis did not grow very fast; -for a long time nobody thought it was going to be a city, and fifty -years ago there were only about sixteen thousand inhabitants; but it -has grown fast enough since. There are more than five hundred thousand -people there now, and large, beautiful buildings, and everything which -helps to make a city handsome. It is hot there, though; at least my -auntie thinks so. She used to have to wait three hours in a St. Louis -depot for a train every time she came home for her summer vacation, and -went back in September, and she says the warmest she has ever been in -her life was during those hours; and she never in five years struck a -cool day! So she says she cannot help thinking that St. Louis is always -warm. But probably if she had been there in January, instead of June or -September, she would have thought differently. Women are apt to think -that things stay always just as they happened to find them. - - ROBERT CAMPBELL. - -[Illustration: THE COURT HOUSE.] - - * * * * * - -THE prettiest place to go to in St. Louis is “Shaw’s Garden.” It -has other names, “The Missouri Botanical Gardens,” and “Tower Grove -Park,” which is a piece of the gardens, but when I was there everybody -said “Shaw’s Garden.” The land was presented by Mr. Henry Shaw, an -Englishman, and he used to keep the lovely great park in order at his -own expense; I don’t know whether he does now or not. There are more -than two hundred and fifty acres just in Tower Grove Park. I have never -been to Central Park, that some of the Pansies told about, but I do not -see how it could be prettier than Tower Grove Park. There is a statue -of Shakespeare, and another of Humboldt in the park, and they cost -over a million of dollars. I don’t see why; I didn’t admire them very -much; but that is what the gentleman said who went with us. There are -a great many other parks in St. Louis—about twenty, I think—but none -are so beautiful as this; and the Botanical Gardens are said to have -the finest collection of plants of any city in the United States. My -brother Roger says that cities always say such things about themselves, -and that he doesn’t suppose it is finer than can be found in New York -and Chicago, but that is what they told us. - - NELLIE SHERMANN. - - * * * * * - -I READ a description of the St. Louis Court House which was very -interesting. It is built in the form of a Greek cross, and has a -splendid dome whose lantern can be seen as much as twenty miles away. -It cost a good deal over a million dollars—the building did, not the -lantern. Aunt Kate told me to put that sentence in: I don’t see why; -of course you would know that a lantern did not cost all that! I like -handsome buildings; I am going to be an architect. - -I study all the different forms of buildings; I like the Greek cross -style very well, but I don’t know how it would look for a private -house. Aunt Kate says all that has nothing to do with St. Louis, but I -don’t care. You don’t mind my telling what interests me, do you? - - ARTHUR BLAKEMAN. - - * * * * * - -THERE is a building in St. Louis called “Four Courts,” named after -the “Four Courts” of Dublin. But I think it was queer to name it Four -Courts, and then have only three courts held in it. It is a stone -building, and cost a good deal of money. Stone buildings always do; I -suppose that is because they last so long; things that last always cost -a great deal. I have hunted and hunted to find something interesting -about St. Louis that everybody else would not be likely to tell, and -the only thing I could find was this about the Four Courts. I don’t -know as that is interesting, but it is the best I could do. - - MARY BLAKEMAN. - -[Illustration: THE DENISON HOUSE.] - - * * * * * - -THEY have a splendid Public-school Library in St. Louis. My father said -when he was there ten years ago there were over fifty thousand volumes -in it—books to help teachers and scholars. My father says he thinks -other cities might copy after them in this. Colleges have libraries on -purpose for their students, why should not public schools? - - WILL VANDENBERG. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: THE CUSTOM HOUSE.] - -THEY have a splendid Custom House and Post-Office in St. Louis. Father -says the building cost half a million. He was there when it was being -built, and he says there is something grand-looking about it. And -father says they have splendid schools there; not only public schools, -but lots of private ones. The Washington University is there, and -so, of course, is the St. Louis University; and they have the finest -kindergartens there, I think, to be found outside of Germany. My uncle -says I might as well leave that sentence out, for the kindergartens in -the United States are better than those in Germany. But I am not going -to leave it out; I don’t like crossed-out lines in a letter, and I -haven’t time to copy this. Besides, lots of people think that things in -other countries are nicer than our own, of course. - - CHARLES J. PRESCOTT, JR. - - * * * * * - - RITA was riding on a road that went winding up hill and - down dale, when she remarked, “Well, I never did saw - such a curly road.” - - - - -A SEED THAT BLOSSOMED. - - -ELISE was spending the afternoon with Miss Dora Turner. Miss Turner -was several years older than Elise, but she had come to the country to -live among strangers, and Elise had known her in her city home, and was -lonely like herself, so they became intimate friends. Elise told all -her sorrows and perplexities, as well as her joys, to this young lady. -She was in Miss Turner’s room now, waiting for her to rearrange her -hair and make some additions to her toilet, then they were going for a -walk. - -“I don’t know where we can go, I am sure,” said Elise; “we have used -up all the pretty walks near by. I wish it was early enough to go for -a long tramp; I would like to do something different this afternoon. I -feel tired of all the things I ever did.” - -“Poor little old lady!” said Miss Turner, laughing, “there will have to -be a new world made for you, Elise.” Then, as she turned, she caught -the flash of the diamond at Elise’s throat, and said: “How lovely your -pin is! It seems too lovely and too costly for a young girl.” - -“It was mamma’s,” said Elise gravely, “and papa promised mamma he would -give it to me on my fourteenth birthday. Didn’t I tell you?” - -“Why, no, indeed. That explains it. I wondered that your father should -send you a diamond pin at your age; but it is beautiful for you to have -your mother’s pin to wear. Why didn’t you tell me, Elise?” - -“Because,” said Elise, “there was a part to it that I did not -understand, and I suppose I did not want to speak of it. Mamma sent me -a message with it; at least papa said that the words inside were her -message; she had them engraved on it before she died, so it seems like -mamma’s last words to me, and indeed it is; but I do not understand it, -nor know how to do it, nor anything. I don’t suppose you could show me?” - -The question was asked with a half-laugh, and not at all as though -Elise supposed that she could get any help from this quarter. - -Miss Turner’s fair face flushed. “I don’t suppose I could,” she -answered gravely; “I don’t know much about such things, Elise.” - -What she meant by “such things” perhaps would have been difficult for -her to explain. But the thought in her mind was, that “last messages” -from dying mothers would not be such as she could explain. Elise’s -mother had been dead for many years; at least they seemed many to -Elise, though she could remember her beautiful mother distinctly; -and when she thought it all over, as she often did in the twilight, -could seem to feel her mother’s kiss upon her lips, and the pressure -of her mother’s hand on the yellow curls which used to be hers in -those days. She was not yet six years old when her mother went away, -but there were times when it seemed to her that she had seen her only -yesterday. And at other times the years which stretched between seemed -very, very long. Her father was in India in the Government employ; had -been there for five years. And Elise, who received long letters from -him, and elegant presents, and talked a great deal about him, yet felt -sometimes that she really knew him less than she did her beautiful pale -mother, who used to love her so, and kiss her so tenderly. Elise lived -with an aunt who was very fond of her, and did everything to supply -her mother’s place, and her uncle called her his adopted daughter; -yet sometimes she cried when she was tucked up in bed for the night, -because she longed so to have a mamma and papa and a home of her own, -like other girls. It was perhaps because Miss Turner had no mother that -she had felt drawn toward her in the first place. - -“What is the message?” her friend asked. “May I see it, Elise? I am -half-surprised that you do not understand it; you are such a thoughtful -young person, and seem older than you are; I have a feeling that you -can understand what most others do.” - -Elise made no reply save to unclasp the pin and pass it to her friend. -Miss Turner moved toward the window, where the light would fall upon -it. It was a lovely arch of gold, a tiny diamond flashing in its -center, and on the reverse side was engraved, in small but distinct -letters, the words: “Keep His covenant.” “Why, Elise!” she said, “how -beautiful this is. I should think you would like it very much.” - -“I do,” said Elise, “of course; only it gives me a strange feeling, as -though mamma had sent me word to do something that I could not do; and -I have always thought that I would like to do things to please mamma, -if I only knew just what she wanted done.” - -“Well, but, dear,” said Miss Turner hesitatingly, “surely you can find -out what this means, in a general way.” - -Elise smiled sadly. “I remember mamma very well,” she said, “and she -always wanted me to do exactly as she said.” - -“Well,” said Miss Turner again, after an embarrassed pause, “this is -exact enough; she means you to live a good life, you know.” - -“I don’t know what it means,” said Elise, moving restlessly. “As for -being good, I am not, and I don’t know how to be; I cannot keep my -temper a single day. You know I never get through a day without having -a tiff of some sort with Cousin Annie; and there are ever so many -people who vex me and worry me so that I cannot feel right toward them. -That is not being good. Besides, the words seem to me to mean something -more than that—something different. I would like to know exactly what -they mean, but there is nobody that I can ask. Papa does not understand -such things, and uncle and auntie do not. I don’t seem to have any -friends who could help in that way.” - -Miss Turner gave back the pin, looking very thoughtful indeed. She -ought to know more about those things than Elise did, she told herself; -her father was not a Christian, and her mother had died when her -little girl was six years old, whereas Miss Turner had lived always in -a home where the father and mother were earnest Christians, and she -knew at this very moment that the greatest desire of their hearts was -to see her doing this very thing—“keeping His covenant.” Yet she knew -as little about it practically as Elise Burton did; so little, that -although she was at least six years older than Elise, she did not know -in the least how to help her this afternoon. It was very humiliating. -She could help her with her music, and with her French lessons, and -her drawing, and to have this most important of all lessons beyond her, -seemed strange and wrong. She was still for several minutes, then she -said, speaking very gently: - -“Elise dear, I can imagine how you feel with this message from your -mother; I wish I knew how to help you. But there is a way to learn what -it means. There is a verse in the Bible somewhere that explains its -meaning.” - -Elise looked up quickly. “Where?” she asked. “The Bible is such a big -book, and I do not know much about it. I did try last Sunday to find -something about covenants that would help me. I went away back to Noah -and the rainbow, but I did not get any good out of it for me.” - -Miss Dora went to her table and took up an elegantly bound reference -Bible, full of help which she did not understand, and turning in a -half-bewildered, half-embarrassed manner to the Concordance, ran -her eye down the list of words marked “covenant.” Elise watched her -curiously. She had no Concordance in her Bible, and did not know how to -use one. At last Miss Dora turned to a verse. - -“This explains a little of it,” she said, and read aloud: “This shall -be the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel in those -days, saith the Lord; I will put my law in their inward parts, and -write it in their hearts, and will be their God and they shall be my -people.” As she read a curious light came into her eyes. - -“It is very strange,” she said; “that is the verse that they are going -to talk about this afternoon at the covenant meeting.” - -“What is a covenant meeting?” asked Elise eagerly. - -“It is the young people’s quarterly meeting at the church where I am -attending. Every three months their Christian Endeavor Society have a -gathering which they call a covenant meeting. I don’t know much about -it; I have not been; but they talk together about such things; the -pastor comes and talks to them. They say the meetings are interesting. -What if we should walk in that direction, Elise, and go in a little -while? Mr. Westfield invited me to come, but I did not have an idea -that I should do so. I do not attend such meetings much, you know. But -if you would like to go, Elise, and find out about your pin, I will go -with you.” - -“Well,” said Elise, starting up with more energy than she had shown -before for several days, “I will. I want to know about ‘His covenant.’ -I do, truly. Mamma asked me to, you know; and perhaps if I understood -it it would tell me just exactly what she wanted me to do all the time, -and I should be so glad to do it.” - -“We will go and find out,” said Miss Turner gravely. - -Thus the little seed dropped by the loving mother’s hand took root and -blossomed in two lives, though the hand which sowed the seed had been -dust for many years. - - PANSY. - -[Illustration: WHEN GRANDFATHER WAS YOUNG.] - -[Illustration: THE OLD QUESTION.] - - - - -A SCARECROW. - - -ALEX HAINES and Eva were promised a piece of ground as their very own -if they would cultivate (what is that?) it. - -Each took a hoe and began. By night Alex and Eva had planted a rod -square to corn. - -Then they watched the corn; that is, they watched for the corn. After -a few days, sure enough, the spots where the corn was planted—that is, -the hills—began to swell as though something wanted to get out. Then up -came a bit of a green leaf. Higher it grew, and they came often to see -it. - -One day they came and found some of the hills pulled up, and while they -wondered what thief had been about, they heard from the top of a tree, -“Caw, caw, caw!” - -The thief was a crow. - -So they must scare the crows away, or the corn will be all pulled up, -and their labor will be in vain. - -Crows are afraid of men; but men cannot stay all the time in the field -to scare the crows off. So something that looks like a man must be set -up in the corn patch to scare the crows away. - -With a pair of pants, a coat, a hat, and three old brooms, they are -making a man! When it is all done it will not look much like a man. -It has neither eyes, nose nor mouth. It can not walk nor talk. The -scarecrow has no heart or soul, but it can scare crows away from the -corn. - -The gods of the heathen have eyes, but they can’t see. They can’t see -or hear or feel or think. - -They are made gods, and those who make such gods worship them. They -think such things can scare away evil and do them good! - -But such gods just scare the heathen, and of course cannot save them. - -Ah! if the poor, deceived people knew of Him “who so loved the world -that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him -should not perish, but have everlasting life.” - -What Pansy among you will go and tell them, or help send a preacher to -them? - - L. - -[Illustration: BUILDING THE SCARECROW.] - - * * * * * - -THERE is a grand temperance organization in Sweden, which is trying -to get rid of the saloon. Last year their Government appropriated -twenty-five thousand crowns, a portion of which was set apart to be -used as awards for the best essays on the different phases of the -temperance question, with suggestions as to how soonest to rid the -country of the curse of alcohol. - -[Illustration: GREAT-GRANDMOTHER’S SAMPLER.] - - - - -A DOUBLE LESSON. - - -“THERE!” said Davie Campbell, flinging as he spoke a large, -sharp-pointed stick right where his brother stood, “take that; I don’t -care if it does hurt you. I hate you, George Campbell!” - -The stick was aimed even more surely than Davie in his blind rage -imagined. It struck his brother’s side face, making an ugly wound, from -which the blood flowed freely. - -[Illustration: SHE HELD UP A WARNING HAND.] - -“Ah, ha!” said George, as he turned to the pump and began to bathe the -wound, “look what you have done now. What will mother say to you, young -man? And as for me, that will make a scar, and I will wear it all my -life to remember you by. You will like that, won’t you? You will just -enjoy having people ask me where I got that scar, and me having to tell -that my beloved brother did it on purpose, because he hated me. Oh, ho! -you are a jewel, you are,” and George Campbell laughed, and dodged -just in time to escape a stone from his angry brother’s hand; then went -off down the street, leaving Davie in a perfect rage. - -He was three years younger than his brother, and was said by the -neighbors to have a great deal worse disposition than George, but -I never felt sure of that. However, it is quite true that instead -of being master of his temper he let it master him. He had, also, a -wretched habit of throwing anything he might happen to have in his hand -when the angry fit seized him, letting it strike wherever it might. In -this way he had narrowly escaped doing serious mischief, and he had -promised himself hundreds of times that he would never, never throw -things again, and yet, as soon as he grew angry, so settled was that -habit upon him, that the stick or stone was apt to fly through the air. -As for George, I think he was quite as easily angered as his brother, -but his habit was to laugh, or sneer, or say the most taunting words -imaginable, with a sort of superior smile on his face the while. On the -whole, I am not sure that George appeared any better in the sight of -Him who can read hearts than did his brother Davie. - -They were not the worst boys in the world, by any means; they did not -quarrel all the time. For days together they would succeed in being -very friendly, and in having good times, but it must be confessed that -George had discovered certain directions in which his young brother -could be easily teased, and that he delighted to tease him. - -“Davie is such a little spitfire,” he used to say to his Aunt Mary, -when she argued with him about the sin of such a habit. “Why does he -want to go off like a pop gun the first word that is said to him? I -never do.” - -“No,” said Aunt Mary; “you laugh—a laugh which makes him feel more -angry than he did before, and you say something to increase his rage. -Is that really being any better than he?” But these questions George -did not like to answer. - -On this particular morning, after having stopped the blood from his -wound, he had sauntered away to see two of his friends who worked in -the paper factory near at hand. There he mounted their work table and -answered the questions which they eagerly put to him as to how he -happened to get hurt. - -“Oh! it is Davie’s work; he’s a great boy. If he had had an open -jack-knife in his hand it would have been all the same; it would have -been flung at me when he got mad. I hope when he grows up he will never -take a notion to carry a pistol, for if he does he will shoot the first -fellow who laughs at him, or who laughs when he is within hearing.” - -“Why, George,” said one of the boys, “that will make an ugly scar.” - -“I dare say it will. I will carry it all my life to remember him by.” - -“It is a pity that he is such a little tiger; I wouldn’t stand it if I -were you,” said the other boy. “You are a good deal older than he; why -don’t you make him behave himself?” - -In this way poor Davie was discussed by the three, George telling story -after story about his brother, led on by the sympathy which the two -professed, into making Davie the one always to blame, and himself the -injured, long-suffering elder brother. The boys did not know Davie very -well, and George had always been good-natured with them, so of course -they were on his side, and ready to sympathize with him for having such -a wicked little brother. The longer George talked the more of a martyr -he grew to considering himself; he racked his brain for illustrations -of Davie’s ill temper, and was in the midst of a very harrowing story -when Joe Winters appeared, breathless with running, and panted out: -“Is George Campbell here? I say, George Campbell, your folks want -you to come home just as fast as you can. Davie has tumbled from the -scaffolding of the big barn and killed himself! or—well, he ain’t dead; -but he lies there still; can’t stir nor speak, and they have sent for -two doctors, and everybody thinks he is going to die.” - -Poor George Campbell! To have seen the look on his face when he heard -this dreadful piece of news you would not have imagined that he could -have had so hard an opinion of his little brother as he had been -trying to show for the last hour. He jumped from the table, and made a -dash for the door before Joe had finished his panting sentences, but -paused with the door in his hand to say: “O, boys! it isn’t half of it -true—what I have been telling you; I have been worse than Davie every -time. If I hadn’t laughed at him, and teased him, and made fun of him, -he never would have got angry at me. O, boys! if he dies it will kill -me.” Then he ran. - -What hours those were which followed, while the little brother lay on -his bed, moaning steadily, but unconscious, so the doctors declared, -and they shook their heads gravely in answer to questions, and would -not give one ray of hope that he might by and by open his eyes and know -them. Truth to tell, they thought he was going to die, and that very -soon. But doctors are sometimes mistaken, and these were. Davie did not -die; he lay day after day moaning with pain, not knowing any of the -dear friends who bent over him; staring at George with wild, unnatural -eyes, as if he were some comical object, instead of the brother who -hovered about him, longing, oh! so eagerly for just one glance of -recognition. - -There came a day when the doctors said it was possible—just barely -possible—that Davie might awaken from the long sleep into which he -had fallen, and know his friends. How still they kept the house, and -how silently the mother sat hour after hour by his bedside, relieved -only by the little sister, who came on tiptoe to take her place, that -she might go out and drink a cup of tea to help her bear the nervous -strain. Even then she only went into the next room, separated from -Davie’s by a curtain, and came back when she had got half-way across -the room because she thought she heard a sound behind those curtains. -There was no sound; Jennie was sitting quietly at her post, a wise -little nurse; she held up a warning hand, ready to motion anybody back -into silence who might be tiptoeing toward them. She had imagined it -was George, for he, poor fellow, hovered near, looking almost as pale -and worn as the boy with his head on the pillow. - -Terrible days these had been to George. He was not sure that he ever -prayed in his life before, but during those days he prayed with -terrible earnestness, that Davie might not go away with those last -words of his ringing in his ears. “If he could only know me long enough -for me to ask him to forgive me!” said poor George to himself, while -the tears rolled down his cheeks. “Then I think I would be almost -willing to have him die. O, God! let me just tell him that I am sorry, -and that I will not remember him in any such way, but I will think of -the thousands of good and loving things he has done for me.” - -[Illustration: AT PONT NEUF.] - -I am sure you will be glad to know that his prayer was answered. Davie -awoke from his long sleep with a look of quiet astonishment in his -eyes, to think that he was lying in bed, and mother and Jennie were -sitting beside him, and that George was standing over by the window. He -did not remember any of the days that had passed between. He did not -remember at first the fall from the scaffolding. He was by no means out -of danger, the doctor said, yet there was a thread, just a thread of -hope that he might rally. And so the days which followed were quite as -full of anxiety and care as those in which he had been unconscious. - -But Davie steadily gained, and there came a bright morning in midsummer -when George was permitted to take care of him alone, while his mother -attended to some household duties, and Jennie swept the dining-room -and set the table. It was George’s opportunity. He had longed for -it, but he did not know how to use it. How should he begin? While he -considered, Davie began for him. - -“It did leave a scar, didn’t it?” he said mournfully. “O, George! I -remember all about it; it came to me just a few days ago. Wasn’t it -awful? George, the hardest part has been to think that maybe I should -die and leave that scar for you to remember me by.” - -“Don’t,” said George, who had not the least idea that he should cry any -more about this thing, yet who felt the tears starting in his eyes. “O, -don’t, Davie! forget those horrid hateful things I said to you. You -can’t think how many nice things I had to remember of you—hundreds and -hundreds of them.” - -“No,” said Davie mournfully; “I have always been throwing sticks and -stones and hurting things. Don’t you remember how I lamed the cat, and -killed a bird once, and then made that scar on your face? That is the -worst of all. O, George! if I had died what a way to be remembered. -Think of the lots of things that people could have told of me like -that.” - -George winced visibly, for these were some of the things he had told -the boys in the paper factory that day. - -“I tell you what it is,” he said, swallowing hard to try and speak -without a tremble in his voice, “you and I have both had a lesson, -Davie. If you had died I could never have forgiven myself for having -teased you for getting angry, and then having said that I would -remember you by this little scar, which doesn’t amount to anything, -anyhow. It wasn’t true, Davie; I wouldn’t have remembered you that way.” - -“I don’t see how you could have helped it,” said Davie mournfully; “but -I am truly and surely going to be different after this. If you see me -getting angry and acting as if I was going to throw things, I wish you -would tie up my hands, or hold them, or something.” - -“We will both be different,” said George. “It won’t do to plan such -things as we had to remember. We will begin now and plan to have nice -pleasant things, so that when—that when”—But his voice trembled and -broke; he had been too near parting with Davie forever to put in words -the thought that some time the parting would surely come. - -But I fancy that they must have kept their words and begun over again, -for this happened several years ago. George and Davie are young men -now, and yesterday I heard them called “model brothers.” They really -seem to be planning to have only pleasant things to remember of each -other when the time comes for one of them to go away. - - PANSY. - - - - -MUSIC AND WAR. - - -GEORGE NOYES—that is not his real name—is now in Europe sightseeing. He -spends one week in beautiful Paris, where the people talk French, and -do not do everything quite as do Americans or Englishmen. - -George is learning to speak French. He has got on so far that he can -tell in French to the waiters just what he will have of the bill of -fare. - -Yesterday he and his Uncle Fred went to Pont Neuf, a bridge more than a -thousand feet long, and three hundred years old. King Henry the Fourth -had it built. Visitors of Paris must needs see this wonderful bridge, -or they have not seen Paris. That’s what they say. - -[Illustration: ON DRILL.] - -While George was looking this way and that from the bridge, and -thinking of the war times of kings and princes, he heard sweet music, -and turning to see whence it came, he saw a company of boys playing on -drums and bugles, under the leadership of a soldier and one of their -own companions. - -There they drill every pleasant afternoon, and delight the multitudes -who gather on Pont Neuf. - -However, it is not all for fun they are playing charming French music, -and among the rest the Marseillaise Hymn. They are getting ready for -war times, for fierce battles and blood and death. - -Most nations have had many wars, and millions of their people have been -slain, and no words can tell the suffering. Some day I fear those nice -French boys, grown to be men, will be playing the Marseillaise Hymn on -some awful battle field, while thousands of French and Germans, or some -other people, will be falling and dying! - -All this because one nation wants some of the other nation’s land, or -for some other wicked cause. - -“Blessed are the peace makers, for”— - - L. - - - - -JEAN. - - -COME now, the good ship _City of Paris_ sails in a few days, so let us -away over the ocean to France. - -Here we are in Paris, the most beautiful, though not the best city in -the world, they say. - -But after six days sightseeing we’ll hurry to another place, and here -we are in Domremy. Here we’ll roam over the hills and think. See that -cluster of trees? We must sit under them and upon that very stone. -There on that grassy bank where the flowers are blooming, and at whose -foot runs a gentle brook, we must spend an hour and think, think who -sat upon that very spot nearly five hundred years ago and watched her -father’s flock of sheep or listened to the singing birds or talked with -God through the sweet roses she holds. Now she looks up at the great -sun, now at a passing cloud; now a soft wind fans her face; a shepherd -dog lies at her feet; just yonder some lambs are nestled together. - -She is but thirteen years old, but she loves to speak to God as though -he were by her side—and is he not? - -Late one evening she comes leading the sheep home. Sitting alone -looking out into the moonlight, Jeanne’s mother inquires: “My child, -what keeps you so long in the field? You must come home earlier, my -darling, or something will happen to you.” - -“But, mamma, I’ve heard voices in the fields, and they seem to come -from the roses and the rocks and the robins and in every wind, and they -tell me of my native land and my home and God, that I must love _ma -belle France_, and save it out of the hands of all its enemies, and -this is what keeps me so late, my sweet, dear mamma.” - -“Voices, child?” - -“Aye, mamma, voices from Heaven speaking in my heart. Your Jeanne hears -them loud, in my heart, at least, and they say I must save my poor sad -country.” - -Jeanne’s mother could say nothing, but wonder if the child was out of -her mind, or if she had really had a vision of angels, as in olden -times they came to the shepherds while they watched their flocks. - -So the years went by, Jeanne always saying that these heavenly voices -were calling her to save her unhappy country, her friends and neighbors -sometimes calling her crazy. - -She was now seventeen, a lovely pure girl, sorrowing much over the wars -and troubles of her own beloved France. Ah! they were dark days indeed; -this one wanted to be king, and that one said he must rule; armies -met and fought, and some of the young men who went from Domremy, and -with whom Jeanne had played, were brought back from the battle fields -wounded and dying. - -Then came a great army over from England, and city after city of France -fell before its awful march. The frightened King Charles the Seventh -feared all was lost. He knew not whither to fly with his sad little -army. But just when he was going to give up word came to him about the -girl of Domremy, our sweet Jeanne. Quickly a messenger was dispatched -to her plain little home, and out into the fields he hastened to find -her feeding her flock. He urged her to come to her king with all speed. -She knew what it meant; she knew her hour was now come to save her “_la -belle France_.” - -Bidding her mother to pray for her, and covering her neck with kisses, -she was soon galloping off with the messenger to the camp of the king. -A smile of hope lit up his anxious face as she came into his presence. -She told him about the “voices,” and said she was sure she could lead -his army to victory if he would give her soldiers. - -So then and there he put upon her the strong armor of commander, and -giving her a sword and a war horse she led her little band against the -English. They had heard of her, and thought she was sent of God, and -fear fell upon them, and they threw down their arms and fled away in -dismay. - -Meanwhile, though Jeanne waved her flashing sword she never struck a -blow with it, but she was again and again wounded. - -At last came complete victory, and Jeanne saw the enemies of her -beloved France fleeing from Orleans before her rejoicing army. For this -she was called “_La Pucelle d’Orleans_,” or the Maid of Orleans. But -she is usually called Joan of Arc. - -After so much triumph she pleaded with her king to let her return to -her dear Domremy home, but he would not consent. Meanwhile some of the -great captains envied her all her victories, and managed to let her -be taken prisoner. Now comes the sad, sad thing to tell. After this -noble girl had saved her country, her king and the others let her be -put into prison, tried, condemned, and burned to death as a witch! This -is not the only case in which the best friend a country ever had was -cruelly treated by that country. Jesus was crucified, crucified by his -own people, whom he came to save. But scarcely had twenty years gone -by before all the bitter persecutors of this dear brave Jeanne came -to violent deaths, and the people, instead of calling her a witch, -proclaimed her innocent, and a statue was erected to her memory on the -very spot where she was burned, and her family was promoted by the king. - - L. - - - - -HEATHEN WOMEN. - - -ONE of the two is smoking. She likes it, too. Men say it is nice to -smoke and chew tobacco; why should not the women have as good a time as -the men? Or why is it any worse for a woman than a man? And yet if the -girls and women of America should begin to smoke and race horses, and -do similar things they would be called heathenish. - -[Illustration: TYPES OF HEATHEN WOMEN.] - -So it is, women in heathen lands all have bad times and fall into -bad wars. If they ever dress themselves, and behave themselves as -they ought, and have good, lovely homes, and care tenderly for their -children, it will be when they learn about Jesus, who came and died to -save a lost world. How can they learn without a preacher? - - L. - -[Illustration: STATUE AT COPAN, GUATEMALA.] - -[Illustration: TYPES OF UNCIVILIZED CHINESE WOMEN.] - - - - -“FAX AND FIGGERS.” - - -WE clip from the Union Signal a remarkable “queer story,” joined to an -arithmetical problem. The story has a moral well worth considering, and -a “sum” worth doing. - -“I hav of lait got at sum stubbun fax and figgers. 2 siggars a day, -costing oanly a nikkle eech, for 20 yeers at 1st Site appeers to Bee a -smol matter. Let us figger the cost. 10 sents daly for 365 daze reeches -the sum ov $36.50. We will not rekkon interrist the first yeer, but -the interrist on $36.50 for 19 yeers at 6 purr sent is $73.92, and the -Totle ov prinsipple and interrist at 6 Purr sent, kompoundid yeerly, -at the end ov 20 yeers maiks the neet little Sum ov $1,338.54. That -izzn’t a grate eel, but it wood Bi 200 barrils ov good flower, and in -Sum sekshuns ov the kuntry wood maik wun the oaner ov a good farm, -with houce, barn, wel, sisstern, froot treeze and wood-lot on it, -possibly a jurzy cow and sum Uther niknax throne into the bargin. But -my expeeryunce has tot me that fax and figgers prodoose but a Slite -impresshun on wun who has fully dessidid to maik bacon ov his Branes -bi turning his mouth into a smoakhouce. He communly prefurs the hi and -eggzaltid privvylige ov bloin smoak thru hiz noze to having enny uther -erthly pozeshun.” - - - - -A PUZZLE. - - - IF an S and an I and an O and a U, - With an X at the end spell Su; - And an E and a Y and an E spell I, - Pray what is a speller to do? - - Then, if also an S and an I and a G - And an H, E, D spell cide, - There’s nothing much left for a speller to do - But to go and commit siouxeyesighed. - —_Selected._ - - - - -CELIA’S EASTER OFFERING. - - -CELIA’S share of the flowers was lovely. She buried her face in the -blooms again and again, and seemed unable to get enough of their -sweetness. - -They had spent the entire morning in the woods hunting for treasures, -she and her particular friend, Helen Beardsley. Helen attended another -Sunday-school, so they had carefully divided the flowers, for they were -to be used in decorating the church for the Easter service. - -“You will smell all the sweetness out of those things, child,” said -Miss Agatha Foster, looking up from the bit of satin she was carefully -embroidering. Miss Agatha was Celia’s oldest sister. - -[Illustration: HESTER THOUGHT ABOUT IT.] - -“O, no, I won’t!” said Celia, laughing; “they have all the sweetness -of the woods in them. You can’t think how the woods smelled this -morning! It seemed just like heaven.” - -Agatha and the middle sister, Lorene, looked at each other and laughed. - -“What an idea!” said Lorene; “it is the first time I ever heard the -woods compared to heaven.” - -Mrs. Foster came into the room at that moment, and stopped by the -table near the door to arrange the books; there was a tired, somewhat -troubled look on her face. “Poor Hester has had to be disappointed -again about going home,” she said. - -[Illustration: CHRIST IS RISEN] - -“Why, mother,” said Agatha, “that is really too bad. It is the third -Saturday she has missed, and their baby is sick, you know.” - -“I know it,” said Mrs. Foster, looking more troubled still; “but what -can I do? There will be company to tea, and cook cannot leave the -kitchen to answer the bell; she can not even attend to the downstairs -bell; it rings every few minutes on Saturdays; besides, there is extra -work for her to do, and somebody must set the table for her. I don’t -suppose either of you could give her a lift, could you, and let Hester -go?” - -There was inquiry in the mother’s tone, but no expectation. Agatha -lifted her eyebrows, but there was a difficult spot in her embroidery -just then, so she made no reply; but Lorene turned quite away from the -piano to answer: - -“Why, mother, how could we? I have my practicing to do; I have to sing -twice to-morrow, you know. Of course that would not take me long, but -we couldn’t run to the door every time the bell rang, could we, and -receive callers at the same time?” - -“And as for setting the table,” said Agatha, who had righted her -embroidery and was taking neat stitches, “I never could get all the -things on a table. It wouldn’t be possible for me to set it for -company.” - -“I suppose it cannot be arranged,” said Mrs. Foster. “I must finish -Grandma’s cap so she can wear it this evening; her other is really -unfit, and I have several stitches to take for Celia, as well. Hester -must wait another week. I told her so; but she seemed so disappointed -that I wondered if there were not some way to plan it.” - -“Perhaps she can run down there after tea to see how the baby is,” -Lorene said, but Mrs. Foster shook her head. “Cook will need her to -look after things in the kitchen while she waits on table, and it will -be quite dark before we shall be through; she could not go alone after -dark.” - -It was Agatha’s turn to sigh. “We need a second girl,” she said; “it is -ridiculous for a family of our size to try to get along with only cook, -and that little bit of a Hester.” - -“We shall certainly have to get along,” was her mother’s answer, spoken -with quiet positiveness; “you know as well as I that we can not afford -more help this season.” - -Meantime Celia, her fingers still busy with the masses of flowers she -was trying to arrange in a basket for carrying, had listened, her face -growing more and more gravely thoughtful. - -It was Sabbath evening in her thoughts, and she was in the Christian -Endeavor meeting, listening to Agatha’s voice while she quoted from -some grand old writer a thought like this: “We plan our Easter -offerings, and beautify His temple for the glad day, and that is well; -but we are to remember that as there would have been no Easter had He -not given Himself, so the highest and best offering we can bring to -Him is our unselfish consecrated selves.” Celia remembered the thrill -with which she had listened. Agatha’s voice was like music, and the -thoughts had seemed to fit her voice and make a poem of them, which had -thrilled the beauty-loving heart of her young sister. - -That was a week ago. Why should the words come back to her this -afternoon, and ring in her heart like soft bells, calling her? - -What had they to do with Hester, and the door-bells to answer, and the -table to set for company, and a sick baby at home? “The highest and -best offering we can bring to Him is our unselfish consecrated selves,” -rang the bells in her heart, and her lips spoke: “Mother, may I take -Hester’s place this afternoon, and let her go home? I can set the -table; cook said I did it beautifully the last time.” - -“You!” said her mother, in surprise, and both the sisters exclaimed. -“Why, I thought, dear, your class was to meet at Marion’s to help -arrange the flowers for the Easter service?” - -“And I thought you were all invited to stay to tea at Marion’s?” added -Agatha. - -“So we are,” said Celia, answering them both in one; “but the girls can -get along well enough without me. There are eight of them, and Marion’s -Aunt Laura is going to show them how to arrange everything; and as for -staying to tea, why, I can do that another time; and the baby is sick, -and Hester is worried about him, I know. I should like to stay, mother, -truly, if you will let me.” - -“Let you, child! I shall be thankful for your help. To tell the truth, -it seemed really selfish to keep Hester this afternoon, only I did not -know how to plan; I was sure cook could not get along without help, -though she was willing to try, because she felt sorry for Hester.” - -“May I tell Hester about it, mother?” Celia asked, her eyes shining; -“and she can carry my flowers and leave them at Marion’s.” - -The flowers and their owner went away together, followed by Mrs. -Foster. As for the young ladies, Agatha took pretty pink silk stitches -on the lovely white satin and said not a word, while Lorene, turning to -the piano, played a few bars, and sang softly: - - “Low in the grave he lay, - Jesus my Saviour,” - -breaking off to say: “Celia is a strange little girl, isn’t she?” - -“Very strange,” answered Agatha, and she finished a pink bud as she -spoke. She was making an Easter offering. - -Nobody, it is safe to say, was more surprised at the turn of affairs -than was Hester. She thought about it while she hurriedly combed the -tangle of hair before her bit of broken glass, and made ready for going -home. She was worried about the baby, but she divided her thoughts -with this strange offering from Celia. She knew all about the Easter -flowers, and the plans for the afternoon, and the high tea together at -Marion’s lovely home. Celia’s talk had been full of it for the past two -days. “I’d just like to know what made her do it, anyhow,” was Hester’s -concluding question, offered aloud to the tin basin, in which she -energetically washed her hands when the hair was done. - -Easter morning was beautiful with sunshine and the song of birds, when -Celia, looking from her window, saw Hester tripping around to the back -door. She had been allowed to stay at home all night. - -“O, Hester!” called Celia, “how is the baby?” - -Hester looked up with a glad smile. “He is better,” she said, “ever so -much better. Mother would have sent me word, only she expected me. He -laughed and crowed as soon as he saw me, and you can’t think what a -lovely time I had with him. Say, Celia, I want to know what made you do -it?” - -Celia’s sensitive face flushed, and she hesitated. How was she to tell -Hester why she did it? From the next room came the notes of Lorene’s -voice, as clear as any bird’s, rising high and pure: - - “Low in the grave he lay, - Jesus my Saviour.” - -“It was that,” she said simply. - -“What?” asked Hester; “I don’t know what you mean.” - -“That that Lorene is singing. He ‘lay in the grave,’ you know, for us. -That is why it is Easter. I wanted to do something for somebody, and I -hadn’t any big thing.” - -“It was a big thing to me,” Hester said, and went inside the back door. -Celia’s face was just a trifle shadowed. Despite every effort to put -it away, the thought would come: “After all, I needn’t have given it -up. The baby is better, and her mother would have sent her word, and -another Saturday would have done just as well; and I missed all the -beauty and the fun. I know how to arrange flowers.” - -The shadow staid just a little during the Sunday-school hour. The -girls were eager over the delights of the day before—eager to know -how she could possibly have staid away. The lovely cross made largely -of her own flowers, and bearing on their green background in pure -white blossoms the words, “He is risen,” was the most beautiful floral -decoration in the church. “Aunt Laura made it,” Marion said. “You did -not deserve to have it arranged so beautifully; we thought you ought to -have had interest enough to have come and seen it, anyhow. Why didn’t -you?” - -“Never mind now,” said Celia; “I cannot explain, only I thought I could -not go.” Her offering seemed to her small and uncalled-for; she could -not talk about it. Yet, before the morning prayer in church was over, -the shadow had lifted. “I did it truly for Him,” said Celia softly, to -herself; “He knows I did, and whether it was of use or not, it is all -right.” And when Lorene sang, in a voice like an angel’s: - - “Low in the grave he lay, - Jesus my Saviour,” - -she could not help being glad that she did it. - -That evening, when they were coming out of the Christian Endeavor -meeting, the minister, who was shaking hands with the young people on -every side, held in his left hand a single calla lily of rare beauty. -As he held out his hand to Celia he laid the lily against her cheek and -said: “That is for you, little girl. A token from the Master, I think, -since he made it. Let me tell you something which will make it bloom -for you forever. Hester came to me this evening to say that she wanted -to belong to Jesus, and learn how to grow like him, just as you had.” - - PANSY. - -[Illustration: BURSTING INTO LIFE.] - -[Illustration: A STORMY MORNING.] - -[Illustration: CROSSING THE ATLANTIC. (_See “The Old World Too.”_)] - - - - -WHITE AS WOOL. - - -WOOL is not always white. Its owner sometimes is black—was born black. -It can’t help it, you see. Sometimes, however, it gets into the dirt, -and the snowy wool becomes dirty. - -Sometimes it creeps among the burned stumps and logs, and soon looks as -black as the stump itself. - -Now what happens? The shearer does not want to clip off such stuff, and -the merchant can’t sell dirty wool, nor can the weaver weave a nice -shawl from it; and, if he did, no clean Pansy would want to put it on -week days or Sundays. - -What then? It must be washed. The dirty black sheep must be put into -the water, and washed and washed and washed. - -Then let him go up from the water and give himself a good shaking and -stand in the green grass and let the warm, shining sun dry its hair—I -mean wool. - -Now it is white and soft and beautiful, and if Mr. Sheep could see -himself in the looking-glass he might be proud of his beauty. - -The blood of Jesus Christ cleanses from all sin. Sin is a dirty -thing—worse than mud. Heathenism is a dreadfully dirty, filthy thing. -The Gospel we send them is like water for the dirty wool. - -The Bible says to the worst sinner there is in the world: - -“Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though -they be red like crimson they shall be as wool.” (Is. i. 18.) - - L. - - - - -EASTER GREETING. - - - BE thy risen Lord, to-day, - All thy help and all thy stay; - All thy comfort in the night; - All thy gladness in the light; - Filling, with his love divine, - Every hungering of thine! - ALICE F. DUNLAP. - - - - -MISS LOUISE JOHNSON’S LETTER. - - -SHE wrote it from Lien Chow, China. It was published in “Woman’s Work -for Woman.” - -Here it is: - -“We expect to be packed into smaller boats this P. M. to go the last -ten miles up the Sam Kong River. People are looking at the windows. -Women are expressing astonishment that I can write. . . . - -“We have had a charming trip. The beauty of the country grows upon -me. Many of the clear crystal waterfalls were several hundred feet in -descent. The river winds around the bases of mountains, and so seems to -be a succession of beautiful lakes. It reminds one of Delaware Water -Gap. - -[Illustration: “WE TRAVELED IN THE DAYTIME.”] - -“We traveled in the daytime, stopping an hour or two. Then came the -sick to our Dr. Machle. We gave tracts to the people. At one place the -women came in little boats. I stood at the window and read to them. -They listened, and thanked me for ‘teaching’ them. - -“I want to write more letters, though I now write many. It takes three -months for a letter and its reply from New York to Canton; four months -to Sam Kong. I like to write, and am delighted to get letters. Some of -the best have been from strangers. So all my dear young friends may -continue to write me; I will answer as soon as I can get time.” - - - - -BABY’S CORNER. - -A MAY MORNING. - - -IN a green yard stands a gray old house. In the house live six happy -children. They have many things to make them glad and happy. - -All around are green fields and hills and tall trees. Every day they -see the pretty pictures which the sun makes in the sky when he gets up -and goes to bed. There are no big houses in the way to hide the red and -pink clouds. - -A little brook goes dancing by at the foot of the hill. You can see the -little white stones through the water. - -They have a great many pets—colts and calves and chickens and rabbits -and cats. - -And there are ever so many nice things for them to do. They fish in the -brook or take off their shoes and stockings and wade in the water. They -hunt in the grass for red berries. They swing in the big swing under -the maple-tree. They go after the cows and hunt butterflies, and tumble -on the hay in the barn. - -Such good times! - -This bright May morning mamma and all six of them are out in the -orchard. The apple-trees are full of pink and white flowers, and the -cherry-trees are all white, like pop corn. - -What a pretty sight! - -The air is sweet with the breath of the blossoms. Everything is gay -and happy. The brook is tinkling, the bees are humming, the birds are -singing. - -Little children must sing, too. Hark! hear them. - -It is a little song which begins: - - “Blooming May - Makes all gay.” - -And this little song ends like this—the children all like to sing it: - - “Tra la la la la la la. Tra la la la.” - - MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON. - - - - -KITTY KNEW ABOUT SHEEP. - - - “SEVEN sheep were standing - By the pasture wall. - Tell me,” said the teacher, - To her scholars small, - “One poor sheep was frightened, - Jumped and ran away. - One from seven—how many - Woolly sheep would stay?” - - Up went Kitty’s fingers— - A farmer’s daughter she, - Not so bright at figures - As she ought to be. - “Please, ma’am”—“Well, then, Kitty, - Tell us, if you know.” - “Please, if one jumped over - All the rest would go.” - - * * * * * - - SAID Willie: “The Man in the Moon - In Mother Goose came down too soon, - For I’ve read it over and over; - But he’d done a sillier thing to-day, - When Flossie and I went out to play - And roll in the field of clover. - For up in the sky, right overhead, - When every star had gone to bed, - And the sun was shining bright, - We saw his moon, looking pale and thin, - Because he’d forgotten to take it in, - After hanging there all night!” - —_Selected._ - -[Illustration: BURNS’S HIGHLAND MARY.] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE BEE’S WISDOM. - - - SAID a wandering little maiden - To a bee with honey laden, - “Bee, at all the flowers you work, - Yet in some does poison lurk.” - - “That I know, my pretty maiden,” - Said the bee with honey laden, - “But the poison I forsake, - And the honey only take.” - - “Cunning bee, with honey laden, - That is right,” replied the maiden; - “So will I, from all I meet, - Only draw the good and sweet.” - —_Selected._ - - - - -THE HARD TEXT. - -(_Matt._ xii. 34.) - - -“O GENERATION of vipers.” - -Thus Jesus called the Jews or their leaders. Put this with other names -he gave them—“hypocrites,” “fools and blind,” “serpents” (read the -twenty-third chapter of Matthew)—and maybe you will wonder how he, so -gentle and forgiving, could do it. - -“Yes,” you say, “they did provoke Him; they treated Him most -outrageously, calling Him all sorts of bad names, and finally putting -Him to death in the most cruel manner. But it does not seem quite right -for Him to call them vile names back again. It looks as though He lost -his temper and became awfully angry with his enemies.” - -Indeed it does say He once looked around upon them with anger. So you -are right with that word, but its real meaning is indignation, the -righteous feeling every one should have against wrong. Thus you ought -to feel against swearing, stealing, the liquor business and all such -things. It would be wicked for you to smile at such things. So much for -anger—the anger of Jesus. Now about “calling names.” - -You must remember Jesus knew the hearts of these Pharisee Jews—how -black, how vile they were, while they thought themselves quite good and -beautiful. Gentle talk to them did no good. To have them see themselves -as they really were, he must be plain; he must speak out. What he did -was not “calling names” as one boy does to another, when he is “mad” -with him and hates him. Jesus did not hate them, bad as they were. He -would save them if they would repent and come to him. So he must warn -them by telling them the awful truth. - -So it was; Jesus could draw some by gentle, loving words and ways; -others, if saved at all, must be driven. Jesus acted according to the -kind of people he was speaking to. - -May we sometimes deal this terrible way with sinners? May ministers do -it? Some years ago Rev. C. G. Finney did often speak to many who came -out to oppose him and make fun of religion—he did speak very plainly -and severely. It is said Mr. Moody once rebuked a wicked man this very -way. But not every one can wisely do it. It must be done with great -sorrow. No doubt it almost broke Jesus’ heart to say such plain things. -A parent sometimes must punish a naughty child; it hurts him to do it, -however. He often weeps more than the punished child. - - L. - - - - -SOMETHING FOR PAPA. - - -BY this time you are feeling that papa is being neglected, and that -mamma and sister are having all the gifts; though I believe papa would -like the nice writing-case with pockets which we planned in November -quite as well, perhaps, as any member of the family. However, I am sure -of one thing he will like, and it is something which you, my girl, can -make, with some industry and very little expense. -I do hope you know how to knit, the nice old-fashioned knitting which -our dear grandmothers understood so well? If you do not, my first -advice to you is to master that fine art which has of late years gone -so nearly out of fashion; it is coming to the front again, and there -is no end to the neat little comforts which you can make with the aid -of a ball of tidy cotton and two large knitting needles. I will not -attempt to teach you the stitch on paper, though if you sat by my side -I could show it to you with very little trouble. If there is not a dear -white-haired grandmother in your home, as I hope there is, borrow one -of some friend, and beg her to teach you how to knit. Of course it is -just possible that mamma herself understands the stitch; you might try -her. - -Having learned it—which I am sure you can do in an hour—get two -large-size needles of steel, or ivory, or wood—I like to use wood—and -a ball of the very coarsest tidy cotton you can find, and set to work. -Cast on as many stitches as the needle will conveniently carry, and -knit back and forth, back and forth industriously, until you have a -strip a yard long. Oh! it will require patience and industry; I told -you that in the beginning, you know. Having finished the strip begin -again, and make another precisely like it; then a third, and perhaps, -if your needles are not very long, a fourth—you might consult with -mamma or Auntie as to that. When the four are finished—in order to be -sure to have the article large enough we will say four—fold the side -edges of two neatly together, and knit them together with a crochet -hook, or sew them with a needle and some of the tidy cotton, as you -will; add the third and fourth in the same manner, and when all is -complete if you do not have a bath towel which will please papa better -than any Turkish towel he ever bought, I shall be astonished and -disappointed. For fear of discouraging you at the outset, I mentioned a -yard as the length, but let me whisper to you, entirely in confidence, -that if you should make it a yard and a half long, or even a trifle -longer, papa would like it better still. You see I have heard the -gentlemen groan over short bathing towels, and I know all about it. - -You see with how very little expense such an article could be made, -and I really do not know of any one thing which will add more to the -comfort of the toilet. Some gentlemen like very coarse and rough -bathing towels, in which case macremé cord is sometimes used instead of -tidy cotton; probably mamma could advise you wisely in this direction, -also. - -If you undertake such a gift, I hope you will have the kindness -to write and tell me how you succeeded, when and how the gift was -presented, what was said, and all about it. - - Your friend, - PANSY. - - * * * * * - - IF anything unkind you hear - About some one you know, my dear, - Do not, I pray you, it repeat - When you that some one chance to meet; - For such news has a leaden way - Of clouding o’er a sunny day. - But if you something pleasant hear - About some one you know, my dear, - Make haste—to make great haste ’twere well, - To her or him the same to tell; - For such news has a golden way - Of lighting up a cloudy day.—_Selected._ - - - - -[Illustration] - -A Walking Wonder - - - Sir Geoffrey had a little son - Who liked to strut about - And wave a sword or shoot a bow - And raise a martial shout. - - One day he saw a sight like this - [Helmet walking with four legs and a tail] - And did he run? Oh, no! - He caught this walking helmet fast - And raised the visor so! - [Cat under helmet] - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -The title for “A DELIGHTFUL WRITER” was taken from the page header as -the story itself began with only the illustration. - -HOWARD’S WAY: “attemped” changed to “attempted” (once attempted to -answer) - -WHEN HE WAS TWELVE YEARS OLD: “mysstery” changed to “mystery” (whose -mystery fills) - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pansy's Sunday Book, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PANSY'S SUNDAY BOOK *** - -***** This file should be named 52910-0.txt or 52910-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/1/52910/ - -Produced by Emmy, MWS and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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