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HAPPY HOURS
A RARE COLLECTION OF STORIES . SKETCHES -
YOUNG PEOPLE
FROM THE WRITINGS OF WELL KNOWN AUTHORS
_ PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED
LONDON--NEW YORK—CHICAGO:
W. B. CONKEY COMPANY, Pustisuers.
COPYRIGHTED,
W. B. CONKEY COMPANY,
“4
1894.
LONG AFORE HE KNOWED.
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY,
ES’ a little bit 0’ feller—I remember still—
Ust to almost cry for Christmas, like a youngster will,
Fourth o’ July’s nothin’ to it!_-New-Year’s aint a smell !—
Easter Sunday—Circus-day—jes’ all dead in the shell!
Lordy, though! at night, you know, to set around and hear
The old folks work the story off about the sledge and. deer,
And “Santy†shootin’ round the roof, all wrapped in fur and fuz—
Long afore
I knowed who
“Santy Claus†wuz.
Ust to wait, and sit up later a week er two ahead;
Couldn’t hardly keep awake, ner wouldn’t go to bed;
Kittle stewin’ on the fire, and mother settin’ near
Darnin’ socks, and rockin’ in the skreeky rockin’-cheer;
Pap gap’ and wonder where it wus the money went,
And quar’l with his frosted heels, and spill his liniment;
And we a-dreamin’ sleigh-bells when the clock ud whir and buzz—
Long afore
I knowed who
““Santy Claus†wuz!
Size the fire-place, and figger how “ Old Santy†could
Manage to come down the chimbly, like they said he would;
Wisht that I could hide and see him—wondered what he’d say
Ef he ketched a feller layin’ for him thataway?
But J bet on him, and liked him, same as if he had
Turned to pat me on the back and say, “ Look a here, my lad:
Here’s my pack—jes’ he’p yourse’f like all good boys does!â€
Long afore
I knowed who
“Santy Claus†wuz.
Wisht that yarn wuz true about him as it ’peared to be,
Truth made out o’ lies like that-un’s good enough fer me.
Wisht I still wuz so confidin’ I could jus’ go wild
Over hangin’ up my stockin’s like the little child
Climbin’ in my lap to-night, and beggin’ me to tell
"Bout them reindeers, and “Old Santy†that she loves so well;
I’m half sorry for this little girl sweetheart of his—
Long afore
She knows who
““Santy Claus†is!
OH, OL i Lit eviSi Enos.
F all the nights within the year,
Oh, oh, the misletoe!
That’s the night to lovers dear,
Oh, oh, the mistletoe !
When blushing lips that smile at folly,
As red as berries on the holly,
Kiss, and banish melancholly,
Oh, oh, the misletoe !
NOR RE Rise ari bi CiieeC \saIG a,
CHARLES DICKENS.
UT they didn’t devote the whole evening to music. After awhile they
played at forfeits, for it is good to be children sometimes, and never bet-
ter than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself. Stop!
There was first a game at blind man’s buff. Ofcourse there was. And I no
more believe Topper was really blind than I believe he had eyes in his boots.
My opinion is that it was a done thing between him and Scrooge’s nephew,
and that the Ghost of Christmas Present knew it. The way he went after
that plump sister in the lace tucker was an outrage on the credulity of human
nature. Knocking down the fire-irons, tumbling over the chairs, bumping
up against the piano, smothering himself amongst the curtains, wherever she
went, there went he! He always knew where the plump sister was. He
wouldn’t catch anybody else. If you had fallen up against him (as some of
them did) on purpose, he would have made a feint of endeavoring to seize
you, which would have been an affront to your understanding, and would
instantly have sidled off in the direction of the plump sister. She often
cried out that it wasn’t fair, and it really was not. But when at last he
caught her; when in spite of all her silken rustlings, and her rapid flutter-
ings past him, he got her into a corner whence there was no escape, then
his conduct was the most execrable. For his pretending not to know her,
his pretending that it was necessary to touch her head dress, and further to
assure himself of her identity by pressing a certain ring upon her finger, and
acertain chain upon her neck, was vile, monstrous! No doubt she told him
her opinion of it when, another blind-man being in office, they were so very
confidential together behind the curtains.
WINSOME, DAINTY, DARLING RUTH.
W. TREGO WEBB,
Be Ruth, lady fair, —
Mamma’s dearest prize,
With the sunlight in your hair
And such gladness in your eyes—
How I wonder what your will is,
Winsome Ruth!
When you suddenly, untaught,
Clap your hands amain,
Is it that some new, sweet thought
Flashes through your brain?
Come, unriddle what your will is,
Dainty Ruth!
When you, thoughtful on the floor,
Like a birdling sit—
Twenty different notes try o’er
In a pretty talking fit—
How I wonder what you're thinking,
Saucy Ruth. -
But when you come crawling after
Me, with eyes ashine,
And with sudden burst of laughter
Stretch your small plump arms to mine—
Ah! I know then what your wish is,
Darling Ruth.
THE STORY OF A DROP OF WATER.
«TT has been more than 200 years since I
passed along here the first time,†was
the astonishing statement of a-stranger who.
had been paddling down White River, and
who stopped in the shade of the old covered
bridge at Washington street.
«« There were no bridges over the stream
then, and no reporters here to interview me.
In fact, there is little here to remind me of
my first trip. This stream has drawn into
its bed like a turtle into its shell since my
early days.
these lowlands. There was no bottom to the
water and you couldn’t see across it when I
was a boy.â€
‘Are you sure this is the same stream?â€
“There can’t be any mistake about it. I
never err in these matters. The course of
streams do not change, even if they shrink
from rivers to brooks. I spent several days
in this latitude before, and for a whole week
was laid up against a big hill which stocd
out of the water north of here.â€
‘* How often do you make these tours?â€
‘‘Trregularly. I amalways on the go, but
I can’t control my course entirely. I belong
to a roving, restless, irrepressible and almost
indestructible race. One year lamin Aus-
tralia; another I am up on the Andes
It used to swell out through all ©
Mountains. Now [am up on Hudson Bay;
anon in Yucatan. My periods of rest ere few,
yet I never tire. Sometimes I am cut off
from many of my tribe, but if I can’t reach |
them one way I do another. My favorite
routes are down the courses of rivers. I
never travel over land, and if Ilose my way
or get off into a pond or slough that has no
connections with living waters, I bide my
time with the frogs and snake-feeders.â€
«*You mean that you stay with them until
a freshet comes, which enables you to sail
out into the waterways?†soe,
**No. Sometimes that is the case, but if
I get tired of waiting, and become weary of
my companions, I shake the mud off my
feet, put away terrestrial shapeand form, fade
into the invisible, and, rising high in the
air, seek friends and congenial climes.â€
“* Who are you, that you dothese things?â€
“Tamadrop of water. Now you can
understand why I am old without being
gray; howit isthat I travel constantly by
_ stream or air, range over the wide creation,
and sometimes by chance, as fluid or vapor
make second and even third trips to the
same place. But I must be away.. I am
billed to play a part in a cloudburst in-Cuba
on the 11th of this month.†v
And the shining drop ran along a drowsy
fisherman’s line and dropped off on to a black
bass’s back, and was lost among a million
fellow-travelers.
* NIGHT AND THE COOLING DEW.
MIs. LUTHER KEENE,
6e Noe is not good, mother |
T love the shining light,
The merry, singing birds,
And our red roses bright.
Why do you say good night ?â€
“Red roses droop, my child,
Beneath the shining sun ;
Bright birds that sing at morn
Swiftly, when day is done, :
Seek their still nests, each one. ee
“* Night brings the cooling dew
To grass and flower and tree ;
Brings rest to beast and bird ;
Sweet sleep to you and me,
And all on land or sea.
«‘ And go, to all that live,
We love to say ‘ Good night.’
Oh, may it bring to you
Sweet dreams of all things bright.
Good night, my child, good night!â€
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THE SONG OF THE CHICKENS.
LIEUTENANT-GENERAL PHILIP HENRY
SHERIDAN. :
THOMAS W. HANDFORD.
NE of the most intrepid and one of the
best beloved military leaders~of the
War of the Rebellion was Lientenant-General
Philip Henry Sheridan. He was the son of
poor parents who had emigrated from County
Cavan, Ireland, a few years before the birth
of the future warrior. Sheridan was born
in Perry County, in Southern Ohio, and
shared the advantages and hardships com-
mon to the sons of poor people in this part
of the country half a century or more ago.
He went to the public school till he was
about twelve years of age. It is said that he
started life by driving a water-cart in Zaneés-
ville—a very useful, and in the hot summer
months, a very welcome occupation. We next -
find him working in the store of John Tal-
bot, of Somerset, for two dollars a month,
thence at the store of David Whitehead, where
he earned five dollars a month; and after a
while he is to be found working for Henry
Dittoe, where he received the munificent sal-
ary of ten dollarsa month. In due time we
find him at West Point preparing for that
career in which he was destined to become
famous. He graduated on the 1st of July,
1858, and was appointed a brevet second lieu-
tenant, and was assigned to Company D, First
Infantry. He was sent to Fort Duncan in
Texas. ~ But it was in the full tide of the
angry war that Sheridan came to the front.
His history is interwoven with the most stir-
ring pages of -that terrible strife. His gal-
lantry at Chickamauga and at Chattanooga
resulted in his being made Lieutenant-Gen-
eral by General Grant. Among his many
successes, apart from the final scene at Five
Forks and Sailor Creek, the famous Win-
chester Ride will be remembered with pride
as long as the story of the war is told. That
episode has been enshrined in song, and will
take its place among the heroic classics of
our literature. This brave warrior was loved,
almost idolized, by the men under his com-
mand. They called him ‘‘ Little Phil,†and
that name on their lips meant the highest
kind of praise, and it may be, that, under-
standing all its meaning, General Sheridan
esteemed it as amongst his greatest honors.
“When ‘Little Phil’ called to arms, we
were always ready,†said an old soldier who
had fought under him; “we would have
followed him to prison or to death, for,
while he was strong for discipline, he treated
his men with tender human consideration,â€
The valiant General died suddenly of heart
disease, on Sunday, August 5, 1888, at
Nonquitt, Massachusetts, in the fifty-eighth
year of hisage. Grateful for the services he
rendered to his country in the hour of her
greatest need, we may say, in the words of
Shakespeare, \
“ After life’s fitful fever, he sleeps well.â€
THREE LITTLE BIRDS.
T. C. HARBAUGH.
HREE little birds in a silken nest
In a tree-top high were singing,
The bough that bore them east and west
In a stormy wind was swinging.
A child looked up with anxious eye—
‘0 three little birds together,
So near the sky,
With the storm so high,
Say, do you not mind the weather?â€
“Why should we mind it, wee little boy,
Though hard the wind is blowing?
We're just as safe as you in your joy,
Down where the grass is growing.
We do not fear when tempests roar,
Up here in our nest together;
' Wesing the more
Till the storm is o’er;
We know who makes the weather!â€
‘ Dear little birds, your bough bends so!
\Itis not still one minute; =
I would not be in your nest, I know,
For the world and all that’s in it.â€
‘Nay, little boy, our house is small—
Too small for us all together,
And you might fall
O’er the silken wall
When we rock in the weather.â€
“ Fear not for us wlien low or high
Wein the winds are swinging;
Now near the ground, now near the sky—
You'll always hear us singing,
We see you run, little boy, from play
When rain drops kiss the heather—
You scamper away
While we are gay;
We know who makes the weather!â€
' TRUE WEALTH.
PATRICK HENRY.
il HAVE now disposed of all my property toâ€
my family; there is one thing more I
wish I could give them, and that is the
Christian religion. If they had that, and I
had not given them one shilling, they would
be rich; and if they had not that and I had
given them all the world, they would be
poor.
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ON BOARD THE “MABEL DRAPER.â€
T. W. H.
LAREMONT CHURCH is one of the
largest churches in one of the largest
cities of America. And in connection with
this church there is a large Sunday-school
of nearly seven hundred teachers and schol-
ars. Mr. Fred Williams is superintendent,
of the Sunday-school, and his heart was set
on giving the young people a day’s pleasure
on the lake. His appeal to the members of
the church and congregation was responded
to most generously, and the good ship
‘‘Mabel Draper†was chartered for a bright
day at the end of August. It was quite a
grand sight when the day arrived to see the
“Mabel Draper,†with nearly a thousand
people on board, steam out from the dock,
with banners flying and bands playing, and
hundreds of merry shining faces full of an-
ticipation of a happy day onthe lake. There
was lunch on board, and after lunch games
and singing. Then Mr. Williams made a
little speech, thanking the generous friends
who had provided this pleasant day of es-
cape from the noise and heat of the city. In
conclusion Mr. Williams said that as long as
he lived, Claremont Sunday-school would
always be amongst his chief delights. The
Pastor made a little speech, then there was
more singing. By this time the sun had set
and the moon arose and made a great high-
way of light upon the waters. By nine
o’clock all the company was safely landed
after one of the happiest days they had ever
spent.
THE HISTORY AND SAD FATE OF TEN
LITTLE CHICKENS.
LUCY 8. V. KING.
ak downy chickens from ten yellow eggs,
Toddling around on sturdy little legs.
Ten little chicks basking in thesun, .
Down turned to feathers—thrifty every one.
Ten big chickens—preacher come to dine,
Chicken pie for dinner—then there were nine.
~ Nine sleepy chickens—preacher staid late,
Fricasse for supper—then there were eight.
Hight bad chickens to garden scratching given,
Soup for sick neighbor—then there were seven.
Seven grown chickens, full of bad tricks,
Children had a picnic—then there were six.
Six fine chickens at the set of sun,
When the sun rises there’s not a single one.
Gone away to market—twelve jingling dimes
» In the mistress’ pocket—so ends the rhymes.
CHRIST AND THE CHILDREN.
JOAQUIN MILLER. ‘
A ND ey brought Him their babes and besought
im
Half kneeling, with suppliant air,
To bless the brown cherubs they brought Him
With holy hands laid in their hair. i
Then reaching His hands, He said, lowly,
“Of suchis My Kingdom,†and then
Took the brown little babes in the holy
_ White hands of the Saviour of men:
Held them close to His heart and caress’d them,
Put His face down to theirs as in prayer,
Put their hands to His neck, and so bless’d them
With baby hands hid in His hair.
CUNNING SWALLOWS.
ibe are often said to possess instinct,
as distinguished from intelligence, by
which is meant, apparently, that such knowl-
edge as they have is inhexited, not acquired.
‘
it issaid, but few statements could be less
exact. Our common “cliff swallow,†known
also as the ‘‘eaves swallow†and the ‘‘Repub-
lican,†formerly built against the face of a.
cliff, and asa protection against the weather, -
the nest, instead of being open at the top,
was bottle shaped, the entrance being
through a kind of neck at the side. Now
that the country has become populous,
however, this swallow has taken to nestling
under the eaves of barns, where it is
shielded from: rain by the overhanging
roof.
Little by little, therefore, the wise bird
has given up its more elaborate method of
construction, till now you may see, side by
side, nests that are simple mud_ saucers,
nests that are built in the old-fashioned
bottled method, and nests half-way between
the two extremes, showing plainly that a
process of adaptation is going on.
A Pennsylvania newspaper lately reported
a very clever piece of work by a pair of these
same eaves swallows. They had built a
nest in the old style under the eaves of a
barn, and when it was done an English
sparrow took possession. The swallows
made frantic efforts to dislodge the intruder,
but could not drive her out. Then they
went deliberately to work and plastered up
the neck of the bottle with mud, burying
the sparrow alive, after which they built
another nest close by, and occupied it as if
nothing had happened.
=
THE STRANGER FROM BABYLAND.
OHARLES M. SNYDER.
Se tum to us las’ night, .
The dearest little midget ;
He’s des as wee as he tan be;
He tum all by hisself, an’ he
Des laughs, an’ cries, an’ winks at me,
An’ keeps mein a fidget.
He des tum in from babyland,
The angels bwung him over;
And papa told me that he found
The little fellow on the ground,
An’ he was sleeping des as sound
As I do in the clover.
’Tourse I ain’t sorry that he tum;
l’se glad to see him—only
I wants some love and tisses, too ;
For since he tum, they don’t—boo-hee !—
Play wis me like they ust-to-do,
An’ Lis awful lonely.
He’s des bran new—an’ that is why
They fuss about him, maybe;
An’ papa said I musn’t ewy
‘Tause he’d det bigger by an’ by,
But ain’t he little now? Oh, my ~—
He's only des a baby.
I tan’t hear nuffin near him,
No wonder all the angels thought
That they could spare this little tot—
He cwiesso much ; that’s why they brought
Him where they touldn’t hear him !
Dood dracious !—won’t he ever stop ?
THE TOILET OF THE FLY.
ee toilet of the fly is as carefully
attended to as that of the most friy-
olous of human beings. With a contempt
for the looking-glass, he brushes himself up
and wabbles his little round head, chuck full
of vanity, wherever he happens to be.
Sometimes after a long day of dissipation
with his six small legs and little round body
all soiled with syrup and butter and cream,
he passes out of the dining-room and wings
his way to the clean white cord along which.
the morning-glories climb, and in this retired
spot, heedless of the crafty spider who is
practicing gymnastics a few feet above him,
he proceeds to purify and sweeten himself
for the refreshing repose and soft dreams of
the balmy summer night, so necessary to
one who is expected to be early at breakfast. .
it is a wonderful toilet. Resting himself on
his front and middle legs, he throws his hind
legs rapidly over his body, binding down his ~
frail wings for an instant with the pressure,
then’ raking them over with a backward
motion, which he repeats until they are
bright and clean. Then he pushes the two
legs along his body under the wings, giving
that queer structure a thorough currying,
every now and then throwing the legs out
and rubbing them together ¢0 remove what
he has collected from his corporal surface.
Next he goes to work upon his van. Rest-
ing upon his hind and middle legs, he raises
his two fore legs and begins a vigorous scrap-
ing of head and shoulders, using his proboscis
every little while to push the accumulation
from his limbs. At times he is so energetic
that it seems as if he were trying to pull his
head off, but no fly ever committed suicide.
Some of his motions very much resemble
pussy at her toilet. It is plain, even to the~
naked eye, that he does his work thoroughly,
for when he is finished he looks like a new
fly, so clean and neat has he made himself
within a few minutes. The white cord is
defiled, but floppy is himself again, and he
bids the morning gloriesa very good-evening.
SNAP WENT THE TONGS.
OU have often heard, ‘‘It takes two to
make a quarrel.†Do you believe it ?
T’ll tell you_how one of my little friends
managed, Dolly never came to see Marjorie
without a quarrel. Marjorie tried to speak
gently; but no matter how hard she tried,
Dolly finally made her so angry that she
would soon speak sharp words too. ‘‘Oh,
what shall I do?†cried poor little Marjorie.
‘‘Suppose you try this plan,†said her
mamma. ‘‘'The next time Dolly comes in,
seat yourself in front of the fireand take the
tongs in your hand. Whenever a sharp
word comes from Dolly, gently snap the
tongs, withoutspeakinga word.†Soon after-
ward in marched Dolly tosee her little friend.
It was not a quarter of an hour before Dolly’s
temper was ruffled, and her voice was raised,
and, as usual, she began to find fault and
scold. Marjorie flew to the hearth and seized
the tongs, snapping them gently More
angry words from Dolly. Sxap went the
tongs. Morestill. Snap. ‘* Why don’t you
speak ?†screamed Dolly in a fury. Snap
went the tongs. ‘“‘Speak!â€she said. Snap
was the only answer. ‘‘I’ll never, never
come again, never!†cried Dolly. Away she
went. Did she keep her promise? No, in-
deed! Shecame the next day, but seeing
Marjorie run for the tongs, she solemnly
said, if she would only let them alone, they
would quarrel no more forever and ever.
APkIL DAYS FOR ME, —
L. E. LANDON. ‘
@* all the months that fill the On every bough there is a bud,
year In every bud a flower;
Give April's month to me, But scarcely bud or flower wil lat
For earth and sky are then go filled Beyond the present hour.
With sweet variety. :
: Now comes a shower cloud o'er the
The apple-blossoms’ shower of sky, :
pearl, e Then all again sunshine; ;
Though blent with rosier hue— Then clouds again, but brightened
As beautiful as woman's blush, With :
As evanescent toc. ‘The rainbow’s colored tine,
SN WSK! Ay, this, this is the month for me!
os I could not love a scene
Bevan aS = Where the blue sky was always blue,
: NS ‘The green earth always green.
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AT THE GATE. .
CROWD of eager youthful faces
Watching atthe garden gate ~
To claim a father’s fond embraces, ©
Patiently they watch and wait!
When his daily toil is ended,
With the slow declining sun,
Homeward he will swiftly hasten
There to greet each little one, -
A crowd of joyful, youthful faces
Gaze across the verdant plain, :
And happiness all doubt displaces— _
‘“‘Pather’s coming home again!â€
Boisterously clinging round him,
_ _ Loth their loving hold to part—
Ol! how sweet the household picture t
Father—children — heart to heart !
A BRAVE MOUSE.
AM going to tell you about avery brave
little mouse. It isa perfectly truestory,
and [ think you will agree that if courage
and self-devotion make a heroine, this little
_ mousey may well be considered one.
“Many years ago I was sitting sketching a
little bit of Compton Castle, in Devonshire.
This beautiful old feudel manor-house is sit-
uated in a retired spot. Very few visitors
o to see it. It is quite out of the-beaten
rack, but the seclusion is another charm in
‘the eyes of those who know the beautiful old
Tuln.
lected for my subject an old doorway and a
broken stair or two leading to a ruined tur--
ret, It was a lovely day in early autumn;
- everything was still and quiet, save the hum
of the bees and the twittering of the birds in
theivy. [was quite absorbed in my work,
when, presently, a rustling sound among the
withered leaves at my feet attracted my at-
tention, and looking down f saw, a fewsteps
from me, a little field mouse,
quick glanoe at me from its bright bead-like
eyes, and then rushed across the enclosure
where I was sitting, carrying in its mouth
3 tiny ball, I watched it disappear under
tho wall of the turret. ‘It must be laying
in a store for the winter,†thought I; “but
[am surprised that the nuts should be ripe
already.†With this reflection I began to
draw again, Presently rustle, rustle, went
the dry leaves, and I looked up to see my lit-
- tle friend scamper backover the same ground
and disappear on my right hand,
I had soarcely drawn another stroke before
Dame Mousey reappeared with burden num-
ber two. I was now thoroughly interested,
and resolved to watch her movements closely.
- seeching eyes.
On this partioular afternoon I had se-
It darted a-
a
Poor little creature ! she was evidently afraid —
of me, for she dropped her load half-way and
turned a keen, searching glance upon me.
Then, as if reassured, she picked up her bur-
den, hastened to the hole in the turret wall, . 2
_ Gdeposited her treasure, and darted back
through the archway once more.
other little ball in hermouth. This time she
did not stop to look at me, but made straight
for the wall. I sat motionless and watched,
. but when she reappeared with her sixth bur-:
-den, my curiosity had grown sostrong that I
rose and stood between her and her retreat.
She stopped at my feet, dropped her load, a
tiny, tiny mouse, and looked at me with be-
Finding I did not stir, she
_ picked up her little treasure and carried it off.
IL waited and waited; she did not reappear, so
I felt sure she had gathered all her little
brood in safety around her. ‘Then it struck
me as odd that she should carry her youn
ones to a new home. It was evidently aha,
terribly as she stood at my feet.
I wondered what could have disturbed hes a
in her former home, and going cautiously:
through the archway, under which she had
passed so many times, found the mystery __
solved atonce. Alarge cat lay basking in the†©
sun, happily for Dame Mousey, fast asleep.
No doubt he was lying close to her former
nest, and the poor mother’s heart must hava
beat with terrible anxiety as she made that
perilous journey six times, at the risk of life
and limb, for the sake of her little brood.
Am TI not right in saying that she was a
heroine ? :
4
BANKING THAT LEADS TO
BANKRUPTCY,
OST banks yield fair interest on ail
deposits. Some are foolish enough to
make the saloon their bank. The result {fa
loss and ruin. ; aoe aoe
- You deposit your money—and lose it!
Your time—and lose it!
Your character—and lose it!
- Your strength—and lose it!
Your manly independence—and lose it!
Your self control—and lose itl
Your home comfort—and lose it!
Your wife’s happiness—and lose it!
Your children’s happiness—and lose it!
Your own soul—and lose it!
f
Hardly a
» moment passed before she returned with an-
task, for the poor little mouse was panting
AT THE GATE.
SABBATH CHIMES.
A SABBATH IN PATMOS.
THOMAS W. HANDFORD.
Welcome, sweet day of rest,
That saw the Lord arise;
‘Welcome to this reviving bréast,
And these rejoicing eyes,
. The King Himself comes near
. To feast Hissaints to-day;
Here may wesit and see Him here,
And love and praise and pray.
One day amidst the place
Where Christ, my Lord, has been
Js better than ten thousand days
Of pleasure and of sin.
HE island that is called Patmos and the
little town of Bedford, in England,
would never haye been known to the world
ab large but for the fact that two men who
lived seventeen centuries apart—John the
Evangelist and John Bunyan—bore their
testimony fur Christ in these respective
aces. No one thinks now of Patmos, that
lonely isle, the penal settlement of ancient
Rome, without thinking of John, and ‘of
those visions all on fire with God, which the.
ehurch through many ages has called her -
Book of Revelation; and no one makes a
pilgrimage to Bedford now, except to see the
lace where John Bunyan dreamed _ his
immortal dream, or to take a walk to Hlstow
and yisit the old church and the village
green and the place where the author of the |
‘*Pilgrim’s Progress†was born. Patmos
and Bedford have become immortal because
of these two men. They changed penal
settlements into sacred shrines; they filled
island and dungeon with deathless song, and
painted pictures to cheer the world’s eye and
heart that will last as long as the sun and
the moon endure. Butif these places have
become immortal because of these songs,
what of the men? How did they become
immortal? The answer is near and simple.
Their names were linked with Christ’s; and
by fidelity and continuance in Ilis kingdom
and patience they won for themselves an
everlasting name. We should never have
heard of the fisherman of Galilee or of the
_trayeling tinker of Elstow but for their
relationship to the Christ. And now after
all these changing centuries they come to us
in the holy calm of this péaceful Sabbath
with wise and helpful teachings. Read once
again this first chapter of the Book of Reve-
lation. Isthere any repining? Does Johr
bemoan his exile? Does he plead for sym-
pathy and commiseration? He was notthat
manner of man, nor, indeed, were any of
the first followers of the Christ.
the spirit on the Lord’s day, and, borne
above the sounds of earth and the scenes of .
time, he heard and saw what he would
neither have heard nor seen but for the sim-
ple fact that he was ‘‘in the spirit.†We
need not discuss the drift and purport of
this much-discussed apocalypse to learn a
wise lesson for ourselves this morning. There
are plain suggestions here that dullness itself
eould hardly miss. A man inharmony with
God and nature, with the beautiful and the
true, will see and hear what otherwise he
could not do. John’s attitude accounts—
largely for John’s privileges. If he had
gone about the coasts of Patmos, writing
“« Martyr†in large letters on the sands; if
he had spent the hours in bewailing his un-
happy lot, weshould have had no visions of
the white-robed angels, and of the harpers
harping with their harps, and of the tri-
umphant throngs bearing their palms of
victory, and of the sea of glass mingled with
_ fire, but instead, a dreary monotone, # sad,
‘dispiriting dirge.
But John was ‘in the
spirit,†as Bunyan was “in the spirit,†and
_the Island Prison became the gate of heaven,
and Bedford Jail became ‘‘ the house beauti-
ful.†In the heart of this happy summer-
time, breezes from this far-away Patmos
come like cooling balm to our tired, heated
souls. If we will but -put ourselves in har-
mony with all that is around us, with fair,
blue skies, and singing birds, and waving
blossoms, then earth will not be a dreary
place and life will not be so very hard to.
bear. Noises and discords will become
harmonious, music of the better land shall
steal along secret paths and cheer our tired
hearts. We will hear the voice of God in
every bell that tolls and in every sound that
breaks the silence, we shail see a bright and
beaming light in every cloud, and all will
be fair and beautiful, because our eyes are
purged, and our ears are attuned to sweet-
est sounds. All the common days will be
brighter if we are in the spirit on the Sab-
bath, and these Sabhaths will be prophecies.
of that endless day of rest and peace.
That Sabbath deep and wide,
A light upon the shining sea,
_ The bridegroom and the bride.
He wasin - |
be
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SOWING IN TEARS, REAPING IN SONGS.
BISHOP €OXB.
YHE harvest time is near,
The year delays not long,
And he who sowed with many a tear
Shall reap with many a song. —
Forth to his toil he goes,
His sced with weeping leaves;
But he shall come at early dawn;
And bind his golden sheaves.
THE GENTLE SERVING MAID.
as the fifth chapter of the second book of
Kings there is a very pleasant story tokd
of the good a little bond maiden did in the
there was. a mighty man of war, whose name
was Naaman.
the King, who set him at the head of his
‘The Bible says that Naaman was a
great man with his master, the King; he was
highly honored as a man of valor, but alast
he was aleper. To what extent he suffered
from this terrible disease we are not told,
but we know that he must have been greatly
afflicted, for even the little serving maid who
waited upon Naaman’s wife could not help
: pyre her master. This little bond maidem
ad been brought captive from the land of
Israel, and was given as a household -slave to
Naaman’s wife, as one of the trophies of war.
One day, as her mistress sat among her cush-
ions by the window that looked out upon
’ the towering palms and lofty mountains of
Syria, the little maiden, sitting at her feet,
fan in hand, determined to open her heart
to her mistress on the subject of Naaman’s:
eprosy, and so she said:
__ Would God my lord were with the prophet
that is in Samaria, for he would recover him
of his leprosy.†ey
These words of the young daughter of Sa-
maria were told Naaman, who talked with the
King on. the matter, and the King of Syria
~ gent Naaman tothe King of Israel with costly
resents. But the King could render the
per no help, and so Naaman went to the
house of Elisha. Elisha sent instructions to
the leprous warrior of Syria to go to the river
Jordan and wash seven times, with the prom-
ise that he should be healed. Naaman did
not quite like this. He thought the prophet
need not have sent him to the river Jordan.
And he said: ‘Are not Abana and Phar-
par, rivers of Damascus, better than all the
rivers of Israel? May I not wash in them
and be clean?†But he afterward thought
In this court —
He was a great favorite with —
better of it, and obeyed the instructions of
_ Eiisha, and went and washed in the Jordan,
and was cleansed. What joy there would be
ia his household when he returned! How
glad his wife would be, and we may be sure
the little bond maiden would be greatly re-
joiced. What a treasure she was in that
ousehold! And all because, though carried
eaptive into a strange land, she did not for-
get the God of her fathers, or the mighty
works wrought bythe prophet Hlisha. She
was, indeed, a Missionary of the best sort, a.
oe Daughter, worthy of all leve and
onor,
THE TONGUE.
PHILIP BURROUGHS STRONG.
66 ; HE boneless tongue, so smal! and weak,
Caa crush and kill,†declared the Greek.
© The tongue destroys a greater horde,â€
The Turk asserts, ‘‘than does the sword.†-
The Persian proverb wisely saith,
‘* A lengthy tongue—an early death,â€
Or sometimes takes this form instead,
“Don’t let your tongue cut off your head.â€
“The tongue can speak a word whose speed,â€
Says the Chinese, ‘‘outstrips the steed.â€
While Arab sages this-impart,
** The tongue’s great storehouse is the heart.†~
'Â¥Vrom Hebrew wit the maxim sprung,
‘*Tho’ feet should slip, ne’er let the tongue.â€
The sacred writer crowns the whole,
“Who keeps his tongue doth keep his soul.â€
THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER.
; J. Z. NOUSE. Ps
‘ HEN was our Flag adopted?
Our first national Banner was
adopted by the Congress of 1777, to be of
thirteen alternating stripes, red and white, to
represent their union ‘‘a freed Jand†asa
new starry constellation. In 1795 thestarsand
stripes numbered fifteen. In 1818 the flag
of the old thirteen States was re-adopted and
an order made that it should show the twenty
States then in the Union; a new star to be
added on the 4th of July of each year in which
a new State should come in to keep company
withitssisters. Since we welcomed Colorado,
the stars number thirty-eight; but the two
Dakotas and Washington and Montana are
now to be granted entrance. It may be a
good little work for some of your young
readers to write out a correctly spelled list
of the thirteen, the twenty, and the thirty-
———s
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ar
aie
THE GENTLE SERVING MAID.
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~ more.
eight with the separate dates of their admis-
§10n.° . :
- But what a banner it is! A Hees of
beauty truly, and ow:again of joy to all—
North aad South’ Bast and West, How
fuir are its streamers, as they float daily over
the Capitol and each great executive build-
ing at Washington! Llow many of the op-
ressed has it shielded at home and abroad
in troubled times asin Paris in the days of
the Commune! Mow respected on the high
seas! And now let me say a word about the
song, “The Star Spangled Banner,†which
is, or ought to be, in all our school books,
and taught, I think, with Drake and Hal-
leck’s Ode to the Flag, to every young Ameri-
can boy and girl. Andit would not be amiss,
would it, if the foreign boys who are crowd- |
ing to our shores should learn these songs, so
as to get a love for their adopted country
early, for their new land is a blessing tothem.
How came the ‘ Star Spangled Bannerâ€
éo be written?
_[ have a rare little volume, printed thirty-
oue years ago, which tells a somewhat-forgot-
ten but choice story. Itisfrom the pen of the
late Chief Justice Taney, of our Supreme
Gourt, and in brief reads as follows: ‘‘After
the British troops in the War of 1812-15
hud burned the Capitol at Washington, they
went up the Chesapeake Bay to attack Balti-
Then Mr. Francis Scott Key, one of
the first among the lawyers at Washington,
heard that a dear friend had been taken pris-
- oner and was on board a British ship, and he
determined to try toget him free. Jimbark-
ing ona cartel or truce ship, he visited the
British Admiral’s ship, and by having with
him letters of thanks from the British offi-
cers, who had been wounded in the battle
fought at Bladensburg, near Washington,
he got his frietid off, But he was told that
he could not leave the British ship till after
an attack was made on Hort Mellenry near
Baltimore. Then came the excitement; a
sore trial to true Americans to see the fort
bombarded, the Flag threatened to be hauled
down, and Baltimore bombarded or occu-
pied. Mr. Key told Judge Taney that he
stayed all night on the deck watching every
shell and breathlessly, almost, watching its
explosion; but at “the dawn’s early lightâ€
he saw so pladly that our flag was still on the
Fort. He was a prisoner on the enémy’s
ship, but his heart spoke to him to say:
“‘Does not such a country (and such de-
- field.
fenders) deserve asong? If it had been a -
hanging matter I must write one.†hla
On the back of an old letter in his pocket-
book he beganit, finishing in the boat before
he landed at Baltimore, where it was imme-
diately printed on hand-bills and scattered
all over thecity. And now it is our nation’s
song, and the sweet tune to which it is set is
often heard from the bands of music on our
shipsand at the schools of West Point and
Annapolis, where each day when the flag is
hoisted, its just salute is given ; and sweeter
still to find it saluted on the ocean where
one is sailing on a foreign steamer as we all
have to do if we visit Europe. .
Has the writer of the song been remem-
bered?
In the city from which this is written,
when recently the church of whose Sabbath-
school he was long the superintendent was
being rebuilt,.the school now in that.church
pace in it a beautiful memorial window to
is memory. In 1832 he had given his
school for its 4th of July a noble patriotic
song closing with the words: :
**May every mountain height,
2 Each vale and forest green,
Shine in Thy word’s pure light
And its rich fruits be seen.
«‘ And when in power He comes,
O may our native land,
From all its rending tombs
Send forth a glorious band!
“‘ A countless throng
Ever to sing, p
_ To Heaven’s high King
Salvation’s song.â€
THE TIRED LITTLE GLEANER. 3
OOR little Winnie! She has been out
all day with her mother in the harvest
For in the country where they live
the old custom of going out ‘‘gleaning†is
continued, Not that there is muchtoglean,
for the wonderful reapers of to-day leave but
few ears of the golden corn for the merry
gleanersto gather. ‘*Qleaning day†is now
more of a picnic, in which both young and
old unite. Winnie has gathered a beautiful
bunch of wild flowers which she holds in her
chubby little hand. But oh, she is so tired!
Well, home is not far away, and soon she |
will be soft-pillowed in her little cot, wan-
dering away in the land of dreams. g
THE HAPPY SPRING TIME!
There’s semething in the air
That’s new and sweet and rare—
A scent of summer things,
A whirrasif of wings. ° |
There’s something too that’s new
In the color of the blue ie
Thuat’s in the morning sky,
Before the sun is high.
And though on plain and hill,
Tis winter, winter still,
There’s something seems to say
‘that winter’s had its day.
And all this changing tint,
This whispering stir, and hint
Of bud and bloom and wing,
Is the coming of the spring.
SE
Sa
SS
THE PLAGUE OF THE FARM.
ALTER BROOK was the plague of
the farm, and yet everybody had a
kind thought and a kind word for Walter.
He was the soul of mischief, and many and
many a time have I seen him, after some
wild prank, look around him and sigh as if
he was sorry that he couldn’t find more mis-
chief just at hand. The dogs, the cats, the
horses, the mules, every living thing on the
farm came in for a share of Walter’s atten- ©
tion. Even the geese were not free from his
frolics. Nothing pleased him much better
than to sit on a gate and take a young gosling
in his hands and tease it while the whole flock
of geese would hiss round him in most dis-
eordant chorus. Shoes and stockings he dis-
dained, though his mother insisted upon his
celebrating the Sabbath by appearing neatly
elad on that day. Walter was a kind-hearted
~ lad with all his mischief; and Aunt Annie
who was always Walter’s friend, as indeed
she was of all her nephews and nieces—and
their name was legion—used to say, ‘‘ Wal-
ter’s all right. Let him alone! You can’t
make a milksop of him, but you may make a
man of him.†No doubt Aunt Anme was
right, but then boys should remember that
mischief has its limits, and for life to be real,
life must be earnest.
IN HEAVEN THERE IS REST.
BERNARD BARTON.
NOt in this weary world of ours
Can perfect rest be found;
Thorns mingle with the fairest flowers
Even on cultured ground;
Earth’s pilgrim still his loins must gird
To seek a lot more blest;
And this might be his onward word—
“Tn heaven alone is rest.â€
THE BLACKBERRY PIE.
A TRUE STORY.
J. H. HAMMOND,
OHNNY PERCIVAL was a boy about
nine years old, who, like many other
boys, had_not learned that one might have
. too much of a good oC One day he said
“to his mother:
“*T wish I wasa man,’
“ Why, Johnny?’
,
“So that I could have as much blackberry
pie as I want.â€
“Don’t you have as much now as you
t? You al hh ith us.â€
wan ou always share with us.
“Yes, mother, I have one piece, some-
times two pieces, but I want a tvhole one, and
when I get to be aman I mean to have a
whole blackberry pie to myself.â€
“Well, Johnny, you need not wait to be
a man for that, you may have one now.â€
*« What, mother! a whole one all to my-
self?â€
“Yes, you go and pick the berries and 1
will make the pie for you, and you may have.
it all to yourself.â€
““Oh! goody,†exclaimed Johnny, and in
great glee ran off for a basket, and went for
the berries. He brought them home and his
mother made a nice, fat berry pie, in one of
those large, deep, oblong tins which our:
mothers used to ee When baked it was
handed over to J Shan: who sat down in the
corner to eat it. He began with a hearty
relish, smacked-his lips and pronounced it a
real good pie, and soon had half of it de-
-voured. But such a pie is a great deal for
one little boy to eat at once; he attacked the
latter half with much less eagerness. His.
mother saw his failing appetite and pleas- .
antly said:
“Johnny, you need not eat it all if you
don’t want it.â€
But Johnny had undertaken to eat a
whole pie, and did not mean to give up, se
he answered:
. “Yes, mother, I do ora it all, but this
pa? of it is not quite as good as the other
‘That can’t be, my son, for it was all
made together. One part must be just as:
good as another,â€
Johnny kept on eating, but slower, and
slower, and evidently with less and less —
relish. He persevered, however, till he had
at length actually swallowed the last mouth-
ful, Then he pushed the empty tin away
and said aloud:
““T wouldn’t give a i for a blackberry
pie.â€
This true story is not a strange one at all.
Many a boy now thinks that if he only had a.
man’s liberty he would be happy; but if he
should have a man’s liberty without a man’s.
ieee to guide him, he would only make
imself miserable. Be thankful, boys, that.
a cannot always now do just as you.
please.
as
s
LAY RY
THE PLAGUE OF THE FARM.
THE TRIAL TRIP.
ALTER and Eustace think, as indeed
do many other little boys, and not
without good reason, that they have the best
and kindest father that ever lived. He seems
to know just exactly what they want. Only
yesterday he brought them home two lovely
full-rigged little boats. Walter’s is called
“
«Ihe Fairy Alice.†And now they have
brought down their ‘trim built vessels to the
pond which lies at the foot of the garden—
which is, in their eyes, quite a lake—and
they are launching their tiny crafts for the
trial trip. They are about as happy as any
boys in all America this bright August mora-
img, and all we wish is that the sails of their
boats may be filled with prosperous breezes,
gad that the trial trip may be eminently suc-
cessful.
NOBODY’S DARLING. ~-
ee ea
Ss
§4 ep pe
* (es
YOUNG GILDEROY’S KITE.
N ae outside the village of Mapleson lies
a lovely piece of land, known as Maple-
sen Meadows, and here in what was called
“«kite time,†the boys of Mapleson used to
fly their kites. There were no more beauti-
ful kites to be seen in all that region of
eountry than in Mapleson Meadows. The
boys of the village formed themselves into
a club, with a constitution and by-laws, of
eonrse. A special day was set apart for a
grand kite-flying tournament, and the boy
whose kite flew-the highest and kept the
ateadiest was to be Captain of the club for
that year, with the title of ** Captain Gilde-
roy.†The boys had been acenstomed to
the phrase, ‘‘as high as Gilderoy’s kite,†and
so they determined to call their Captain
<‘Qaptain Gilderoy,†supposing that Gilde-
roy’s kite must have been a high flyer.
Imagine their distress, however, when they
tearned that this odd phrase had nothing
_ whatever to do with flying kites. It seems
that long. long agoit was the barbarous cus-
tom to take parts of the body of very bad.
criminals and hang them upon the chains of
the gibbet for crows and buzzards and vul-
tures to devour. This part of the body was —
called the ‘“‘kyte.†Gilderoy was a very dar-
ing and successful highwayman and rob-
ber. He was a perfect terror, and the people
were so glad of his death that. they hung.
his ‘‘kyte†on the loftiest gibbet-pole they
could find, as a token of scorn and contempt.
When this story of the origin of the phrase,
‘‘as high as Gilderoy’s kyte,†was explained
at the meeting of the Mapleson Kite Club,
convened for the election of the Captain for
the year, Ole Bennett said. |
‘© Well, boys, who cares? This is a free
country anyhow. We don’t care how high
old Gilderoy was hung. We know that Ted
Ebberson’s kite is the finest kite that has
been seen in Mapleson Meadows this year,
and that it flew the highest and kept the
steadiest, and we know also that Ted is a
downright good fellow, and I don’t think
he should be done out of his honors because
old Gilderoy was hung; and I therefore pro-
e that we elect Ted Ebberson as our
‘Captain Gilderoy†for the ensuing year.â€
Ole’s speech was applauded, as only boys
know how to applaud. The resolution was .
unanimously passed, with three times three,
and if: our readers will look at the frontis-
piece, they will no doubt agree that Ted
Ebberson looks proud of his kite and proud
of his honors, as well he may, in spite of old
‘Gilderoy, the wicked highwayman.
TO READ, TO SPELL AND TO SEW.
je only our frocks and our aprons
Would grow like the leaves on the trees,
And out we could rush in the morning,
To gather and pick as we please—
How nice it would be, and how easy,—
We uever would have a misfit;
Wo matter how much we might tear them,
We never need sew up a slit.
No tiresome mending or darning,
No use for a needle or thread,â€
No grief for a hole in a stocking, |
No scolding from mother to dread.
And if there were never a lesson,
No writing or spelling of words,
And nothing to do but he idle,
And chatter and sing, like the birds,
How useless, and tired, and lazy,
And mischievous, too we would grow;
No, no! ’Tis a thousand times better
To read and to spell and to sew.
THE TRIAL TRIP.
THE SILK WORM’S SONG.
FRANCIS s0OTT KEY.
H, let me alone, I’ve a work to be done
. That cam brook not a moment’s delay;
While yet I breathe I must spin and weave,
And may rest not, night or day.
Food and sleep I will never know
Til my blessed work be done.
Then my rest shall be sweet in the winding-sheet
That around me I have spun.
- Jhave been a baseand groveling thing, ©
And the dust of the earth my home;
But now I know that the end of my woe
And the day of my bliss has come.
Sm the shroud I make, this creeping frame
Shall peacefully die away;
But its death shall be new life to me
In the midst of its perishing clay.
3 shall wake, I shall wake, a glorious form
Of brightness and beauty to wear; = i
Esball burst from the gloom of my opesiag tomb,
And breathe in the balmy air.
Zshall spread my new wings in the morning sua,
In the summer’s breath I'l live; ;
3 will bathe me where, in the dewy ain,
The flowers their sweetness give.
3 will not touch the dusty earth,
Vil spring to the brightening sky,
And free as the breeze, where’er i please,
On joyous wings I'll fly.
And wherever I go, timid mortals may know
That like me from the tomb they shall rise;
And the dead shall be given, by signal from heaven,
A new life, a hew home in the skies, ee
Then let them like me make ready their shrouds,
Nor shrink from the mortal strife;
And like me they shall sing, as to heaven they
spring,
Death is not the end of life.
LEGEND OF THE TWO SACKS.
J HERE is an ancient legend that tells of
an old man who was in the habit of
traveling from place to place with one sack
hanging behind his back and another in
front of him. : reas
In the one behind him he cast all the kind
@eeds of his friends, where they were quite
hid from view; and he soon forgot all about
them.
In the one hanging around his neck, under
his chin, he put all the sins which the
people he new had committed; and these he
was in the habit of turning overand looking
at as he walked along, day byday. Oneday,
-are to a ship, or wings to an eagle.
to hissurprise, he met a man, who, like
himself, was wearing a sack in frontand one
behind.
feeling his sack. .
‘‘ What have you got here, my friend?â€
he asked, giving the sack in front a good —
oke, E
“Stop! don’t do that!†cried the other,
‘you'll spoil all my good things.â€
“What good things?†asked number one.
“Why, my good deeds,†answered number _
two. ‘‘Lalways keep them in front of me,
where I can always see them, and take them
eutandairthem. See, here is a half-crown
E put in the plate on Sunday; and the shawl
T gave the beggar girl; and the mittens I
gave to the cripple boy; and the penny I
_ gave to the organ-grinder; and here is even
the benevolent smile I bestowed on the cross-
ing sweeper at my door; and—â€
“« And what’s in the sack behind you?â€
asked the first traveler, who thought his
companion’s good deeds would never come to
en end. zs
“Tut, tut,†said number two, ‘‘there is
nothing I care to look at in there! That
sack holds what I call my little mistakes.â€
“Tt seems to me that your sack of mis-
takes is fuller than the other,†said number.
one. er
- Number two frowned. He had _ never
thought that, although he had put what he
ealled his ‘‘ mistakes†out of sight, every
one else could see them still. An angry
reply was on his lips, when happily a third
traveler, also carrying two sacks, as they
were, overtook them.
The first two men at once pounced on the
stranger.
‘* What cargo do you carry in your sacks?â€
eried one. ~ aes
“« Let’s see your goods,†said the other.
«With all my heart,†said the stranger;
for I have a goodly assortment, and I like
to show them. ‘‘ This sack,†he said, point-
ing to the one hanging in front of him, ‘is
full. of the good deeds of others.â€
«* Yoursackis nearly touching the ground.
Ié must be a pretty heavy weight to carry,†- .
observed number one.
“There you are mistaken,†replied the
stranger; ‘“‘the weight is only such as sails
It helps
me onward.â€
‘¢ Well, the sack behind you can be of
little use to you,†said number two, “ for it
He went up to him and began.
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“MY DEAR LITTLE PUPPIES.†|
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appears to be empty; and I see it has a great
hole in the bottom of it.â€
“I did it on purpose,†said the stran-
ger, ‘‘for all the evil I hear of ere I put
in there and it falls through and is lost. So
ou see, I have no weight to dragme down
ckwards.â€
Now, boys and girls,do you know of any one
who resembles either of these three men with
their curious sacksP Just put on your
_ “thinking-caps,â€and try and discover whether
you have ever met anyone among your friends
who will answer the description given of
either of these threetravelers. Found plenty
of people who are exactly like either one or
the other? Yes, lam sure you have.
Now tell me, which pair of sacks are you
earrying? Don’t bein a@ hurry to answer
this question, since is is a most important-
one, and I want you tothink well before you
decide. J hope that you are all bearing upon
our shouldersthe eesy burden which ‘‘num-
er three†said was ‘‘as sails to a ship, or as
wings to an eagle,†helping him onward ‘in
his journey through life. If either of the
other sacks haye been burdening you with
their weight, throw them away, as they will
grow more and more bulky and burdensome,
making your life’s journey one of weariness
and gloom—shutting out from your vision
beauties of which you now haveno knowledge,
and even hiding the brightness and warmth |
of the glorious sunshine itself. Try the ex-
ehange of sacks, and prove tne truth of the
lesson taught inthis leyend. If you profit by
thesimple little story, it will certainly have
been a word ‘‘fitly spoken,†which word is
described by Soloman, as like “Apples of
Gold in pictures of Silver.â€
PEOPLE WILL TALK.
OU may get through the world, but ’twil] be
very slow, :
Vf you listen to all that is said as you go;
You'll be worried and fretted a kept in a stew—
For meddlesome tongues must have something to do,
And people will talk.
If quiet and modest, you'll have it presumed
That your humble position is enly assaumed—
You're a wolf in sheep’s clothing, or else you're a
fool;
But don’t get excited—keep perfectly cool—
For people will talk.
And then if you show the least boldness of heart,
Ora slight inclination to take your own part,
They will call youan upstart, conceited and vain;
But keep straight ahead—don’t stop to explain—
For people will talk.
If threadbare your dress or old-fashioned your hat,
Some one will surely take notice of that,
And hint very strongly that you can’t pay your way-
But don’t get excited whatever they say—
; ‘ For people will talk.
If your dress is the fashion, don’t think to escape,
For they criticise then in a different shape;-
You're phend of your means, or your tailor’s um
paid;
But mind your own business, there’s naught to be
made, :
For people will talk.
Now, the best way to do is to do as you please
For your mind, if you have one, will then be at.
ease;
Of course you will meet all sorts of abuse; |
But don’t think to stop them—it ain’t any use—
For people will talk.
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO
oe were no steel pens then, Allthe
writing was done withaquill. The first
pens were made of hollow reeds, sharpened,
and adapted to a thick India ink. Then
game the quill pen and paper. Thediscove
of paper or papyrus, created a great deman
for qe and in Russia, Poland, Germany
and Holland great flooks of geese were raised,
ehiefly to supply this demand. The quills
were very carefully prepared. The outsides
skin wasremoved by a hot sand bath and then
the quills were scraped. After this they were.
hardened by being dipped in a solution of
alum or in nitric acid, and were then bundled
for market. Forty years ago most of the
pens used in New England were made from
guills. The first steel pens were introduced
in England in 1803, but their want of flexi-
bility made their adoption very slow. In
1810 tho first patent for the manufacture of
metallic pens in this country was. granted to
Peregrine Williams, of Baltimore, but the
basinessdid not prosper, as nothing could
eompete with the flexible quill. In 1822
Joseph Gillot, of Birmingham, England,
beganthe manufacture of steel pens by the
use of improved machinery, and the product
of his shop speedily became popular... Assoon
as his enterprise was established others began
the manufacture of metallic pens, and the
shape, finish, elasticity and temper of steel
ens were greatly improved, But for ease
m writing there is nothing to-day that oan
gompete with a smooth, well-made quill
In idle wishes fools supinely stay;
Be there a will, and wisdom finds a way,
re)
a N ever ullee a word of slang,
o IMever shui Ibe door wilt a bang.
Pon RN et REG het ka 2)
IMever say once thal you dont care;
Never exaggerate, never swear.
Never lose your lemper MUCH;
Never a glass of liquor louch-
| Never wickedly play ihe spy, “4
Wever, O never tell alie! a
8
Never your parents disobey
Never neglect af night fo pray,
° |Rememberthese maxims
\ Whroughout the day,
° y ¥ . 1
¢ adnd youwill be bappy
oy lees a Gh work or play.
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MY KITTIE.
MY DAINTY LITTLE CHILD.
M* little dainty child,
IVI With face as unbeguiled
Asif the angels smiled
Upon your play;
What do your earnest eyes,
‘That look so wide and wise,
Yell of your gathered prize?
What do they say?
is it that from the bower a
You culled the hawthorn flower,
As spring-lime’s latest dower
Yo lengthening June?
Or, are you only dreaming
About the river’s streaming, .
Amongst the rushes gleaming,
And its sweet tune?
Smile in your childish playt
tT would that all to-day ;
Were innocent and gay
As you, my child!
That each one might secure
The peace that shall endure
For childlike natures, pure
And undetiled.
God bless you, my own sweet!
May uo wild winter's slect,
No storm or tempest’s beat
Dim your spring sunt
And when, your summer past,
The autumn shades are cast
Upon your life —at last,
May peace be won!
HERE’S TO MOTHER, BOYS!
Beatie
EF BRE’S (o our mother! Let every hon-
esb man and boy in the land respond
to the toast. Well hasit been said: ‘ Honor
the dear old mother.†‘Lime has scattered
the snowy locks on her brow, plowed deep
furrows on her cheeks, but is she not sweet
and beautiful still? he lips may be thin
and shrunken, but those are the same lips
that pressed yours after you had said the
little prayer she taught you when you were
ut with loving care in your little ‘‘ trundle
ed†at night. The same lips that have
kissed many a hot tear from childish cheeks,
and they are the sweetest lips in the world.
The eye is dim, yet it glows with the soft
radiance of holy love which can never fade.
Ah, yes, she is a dear old mother! The
sands of life are nearly run out, but, feeble
as she is, she will go further and reach down
lower for you than any other being on earth.
You ean not walk into a midnight where
ghe ean not see you; you can not enter a
prison whose bars will keep her from you;
you can never mount a scaffold too high for
her reach that she may kiss aud bless you
in evidence of her deathless love. The
mother is the last one to forsake you. So
love her tenderly, and cheer her declining
years with holy devotion.
& te
FATHER AT PLAY.
ee fun as we had one rainy day
i. When father was home and helped us to play}
And made a ship, and hoisted a sail,
And crossed the sea in a fearful gale.
But we hadn’t-sailed into Boston Town,
When captain and crew and vessel went down.
Down, down ina jolly wreck,
With the captain rolling under the deck.
But he broke out again with a lion’s roar,
And we on two legs, he on four,
Ran out of the parlor, and up the stair,
And frightened manima and baby there.
flo mammacanid she'd be p'liceman now,
And tried to ’rest us. She didu’t know hew
Then'the lion laughed and forgot to roar.
Till we chased him out of the nursery door;
And then he turned to a pony gay,
And carried us all on his back away.
Whippity, lickity, kickity, ho!
Uf we hadn’t fun, then I don’t know?
Till we tumbled off and he cantered on,
Never stopping to see if his load was gone;
And Tcouldn’t tell any more than he
Which was Charley and which was me,
Or which was Towser, for all in a mix,
You'd think three people had’ turned to six,
Till Towser’s tail had caught in a-door;
He wouldn't hurrah with us any more.
And mamma came the romping to quiet,
And told us a story to break up the riot.
MY KITTIE.
H, here is Miss Wittie,
She’s drinking her milk;
Her coat is as soft
And as glossy as silk
She sips it all up
With her little lap-lap;
Then, wiping her whiskers,
Lies down for a nap.
My Kittie Is gentle,
She loves me right well;
_ And how funny her play is
I'm sure I can t tell.
THE “GOODEST†MOTHER
MARGARET E. SANGSTER.
VENING was falling, cold and dark,
And people hurried along the way,
Asif they were longing soon to mark
Their own homie candle’s cheering ray.
Before me toiled in the whirling wind
A woman with bundles great and small,
_ And after her tugged, a step behind,
The bundle she loved the best of all.
A dear little roly-poly boy,
With rosy cheeks and a jacket blue,
Laughing and chattering, full of joy;
And here’s what he said—I tell you true:
‘* You are the goodest mother that ever was,â€
A voice as-Clear as the forest bird’s; é
“And I’m sure the glad young heart had cause
To utter the sweet of the lovely words.
Perhaps the woman had worked all day
. Washing or scrubbing; perhaps she sewed;
J know by her weary footfaJl’s way
That life for her was an uphill road.
But here was a comfort, children deart
Think what a comfort you might-give
To the very best friend you can have here,
The mother, dear, in whose house you live.
if once in a while you’d stop and say,
In task or play, for moment’s pause,
And tell her in sweet and winning way, =
*« You’re the goodest mother that ever was.â€
THE CHINESE BOY’S PAT-TSZy 5
O sooner is a Chinese boy born into the
world than his father proceeds to write
down eight characters or words, each set of
&wo representing respectively the exact hour,
day, month and year of his birth. hese are
handed by his father to a fortune-teller, »
whose business it is to draw up from them a
sertain book of fate, generally spoken of as
the boy’s Pat-tsz, or ‘‘eight characters.â€
Herein the fortune-teller describes the good
and evil which the boyis likely to meet with
m after life, and the means to be adopted in
order to secure the one and avert the other.
In order to understand something of the
value of this document, we must glance at
the Chinese method of reckoning time.
There are only twelve Chinese hours to our
twenty-four. Beginning with 11 P. M. to
1 A. M., which is their first hour, Their
names are rat, ox, tiger, rabbit, dragon,
snake, horse, sheep, monkey, cock, dog and
pig. Aseverybody is supposed to partake
more or less of the nature of the animal at
whose hour he is born, it appears obvious
specs?â€
tinat it would never do to- send a rabbit boy ~
to the school of atiger schoolmaster. Hence
the necessity of consulting the Pat-tsz of
both parties before entering upon any kind
of agreement. Itisa fact that it is thus
referred to on every important occasion.
THE TIRED FOOT.
ae potter stood at his daily work,
~ One patient foot on the ground,
The other, with never slacking speed,
Turning his swift wheel round.
Silent we stood beside him there,
Watching the restless knee,
Till my friend said low, in pitying voice,
“How tired his foot must he !â€
The potter never paused in his work,
Shaping the wondrous thing ;
’T was only a common flower pot,
But perféct in fashioning.
Slowly he raised his patient eyes,
With homely truth inspired : :
« No, ma’am; it isn’t the foot that kicks,
The one that stands gets tired !â€â€™
GRANDMA’S SPECS.
UCILLE is one of Grandma’s pets
But Lucille is full of mischief. You
must know that Grandma is quite an elderly
lady. Indeed she is more than seventy years
of age; and amongst other things, Grandma
has a habit of taking a little snuff. You
may be surprised at this, but if you were to
travel through Scotland you would find that
very many elderly ladies, as well as gentle-
men, are in the habit of taking snuff.
Lucille’s grandma is often much in trouble
about her snuff box and her red silk hand-
kerchief and her spectacles; for she is always
losing one or other of these three articles.
And, sometimes, with her spectacles turned
right up over her forehead, she will hunt and
hunt and hunt for them, and very often she
is heard calling, “ Lucille, have you'seen my
Sometimes Lucille will sit in the
large arm-chair with Grandma’s specs on her
nose or in her hand, watching for quite a
while her grandma’s vain search, and then,
when she thinks she has watched long
enough she will say: .‘‘Grandma, I think
these must be yours, for they won’t fit me.â€
Lucille is full of mischief, but she’s a great
pet, and well shé may be. for she’s one of the
dearest girls in the world. If you knew
her only a little, you would be sure to love
her very much.
Sn
Se
~ \
y ws
wh
\ x
Sw
WO magpics gat on a garden rail,
As it might be Wednesday week;
And one little magpie wagged his tail
At the other little magpie’s beak,
And doubling up his Tittle claw hand,
Said this other, ‘‘ Upan my word,
This is more than flesh and blood can stand
Df magpie or any bird.â€
So they pecked and they scratched each ofher’s eyes,
Till all there was left on the rai?
‘Was the beak of one of the little magpies
And the other little magpie's tail.
WHEN THE OWL IS THINKING.
RIGHT gleams from yender meated hall
The ruddy glow that strikes the rafter.
Like dreamland’s twilight echoes, fall
The strains of music and of laughter; .
Soft moonbeams o’er my drowsy pate
(Sloped sideways) steal, and set me blinking,
Yet dazzle not the thoughts sedate
That muster when an ow! is thinking.
Like jay-birds man’s fantastic brood—
So owls decide—all mirth and chatter;
But Wisdom’s court is solitude,
Her “happiness no laughing matter"; —
No cares this tranquil soul assail,
Past, present, future, calmly linking ;
The universe in mental scale
Is balanced when the owl ts thinking !
..BE KIND.
B® kind to thy father—for when thou wert young,
Who loved thee so fondly as he?
He caught the first accents that fell from thy teague,
And joined in thy innocent gles.
Be kind to thy father—for now he is old,
His-locks intermingled with gray;
His footsteps are feeble, once fearless and bold—
Thy father is passing away.
Be kind to thy mother—for lo! on her brow
May traces of sorrow be seen;
O, well may’st thou cherish and comfort her now,
For loving and kind she has been,
Remember thy mother—-for thee will she pray,
As Jong as God giveth her breath ;
With accents of kindness then cheer her lone way,
E’en to the dark valley of death.
Be kind to thy brother—his heart will have dearth,
If the smile of joy be withdrawn ;
WULN THE OWL I8 THINKING
The flowers of feeling will fade at the birth,
if the dew of affection be gone,
Be kind to thy brother—wherever you are,
The love of.a brother shall be
An ornament purer and richer by far
Than pearls from the ue Of othe “seas
Be kind to thy siste any may know
The depth of true sisterly love;
The wealth of the ocean lies anens below
The surface that sparkles above. — :
Thy kindness shall bring thee many sweet hours,
And blessings thy pathway to crown,
Affection shall weave thee a garland of flowers,
More precious than wealth or renown.
“THERE {S A GREEN HILL FAR AWAYâ€.
HERE is a green hill far away,
Without a city wall,
Where the dear. Lord: was crucified
Who died to save us all. © ee
We may not know, we cannot tell,
What pains he had to bear,
But we believe it was for us
He hung and suffered there.
He died that we might be forgiven,
He died to make us good, :
That we might go at last to heaven,
Saved by his precious blocd.
There was no. other good enough
To pay the price of sin,
He only could unlock the gate
Of heaven, and let us in,
O, dearly, dearly has he loved,
And we must love him too,
And trust in his redeemiig blood,
And try his works to do. 3
|
HAPPY APRIL DAYS.
W. SUDCGHM,
WEAT is the bréath of the balmy air, Let me recline in the pleasant shade
When the April days are bright, Of the spreading forest trees,
And hills and vyales and woods look fair Or fly my kite in the happy light, /
As they lie in the golden light. And be fanned by the cooling breeze,
CT UALUMAN ARN) Vang cabo
Le
ie
j
=
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ere
THE BUTTERFLY’S FUNERAL.
Le: you ever start out of your sleep,
When the light of the sunshine had fled.
To hear how the butterflies weep
For a butterfly recently dead ?
Did you see them approach in a crowd,
And a soft lamentation begin.
With a neat little coffin and Shiu:
To put the dead butterfly in?
Did their delicate fluttering wings,
You had thought only made to rejoice,
_ Keeping saying unsayable things,
That went to your heart like a voice:
Did the poor little corpse, all alone,
So pitiful look where it lies,
It would melt a heart fashioned of stone,
Or draw tears from a crocodile’s eyes?
Did they weavé from the cypress a pall?
While lilies the winding-sheet gave ?
Did they play the Dead March out of Saul
As they took the poor thing to its grave?
Did they form a procession in air,
By an aged white butterfly led ?.
While the moths that the coffin must bear
Are the moths people call the Death's head ?
Did you then turn your eyes to the ground,
Where under the butterfly t throng,
The ants are all leaying their found
And most fussily scuffling along ?
Did you notice black beetles in pairs,
With the ready-made mourning they bring,
- Advancing with woe-begone†airs,
= 90 coniple tely at home in the thing ?
-Did you see on the lawn how they met?
Where each grave by a daisy you trace ;
Did you learn with a tender regret,
’Tis the butterflies’ es place ?..
in
ri
ays
y
aS
~~
“T WILG SING OF BETHLEHEM,â€
fhe:
Did you wateh the ants digging the grave’ ze
While the beetles stand ence in black rings,
And the butterflies mournful though brave,
Are drooping disconsolate wings? :
Did they lower the coffin, alas!
Till the poor little thing disappears —
Did they cover it over with grass ;
Did they water the grass with their tears ?
Did the sight send a pang through your hear
Did it almost too sorrowful seem —
And then—did you wake with a start
And discover ‘twas only a dream ?
GOOD TIMES AT HOME.
; JOSEPHINE POLLARD.
THE good times at home! how sweet to remember
» The pleasures and joys that surrounded us there,
From December to June, and from June to December,
When: we were unburdened with sorrow or eare.
From garret to cellar, from cellar to garret,
With happy abandon we frolicked and played,
Invoking the spirits of music and laughter,
And nobody frowned at the racket we made.
O, the games and the gambols out-doors, so inviting,
With home very handy to run to, in case
Some lawless marauders, against us uniting,
Should press us too closely, compelling a race.
All through the dear dwelling and every place near i,
So fearlessly, freely, permitted to roam,
What wonder that we should decide in our childhood
There was naught to compare with the good times at home!
Then the games in the evening in which we would riot!
The telling of stories, adventures, and all
That had brightened the day! And then, later, the quiet,
The_ peaceful home hours—how sweet to recall!
en
| Baby is Going
to Idylo-town. v /
|
MRS, CLARA SMITH COLTON.
| Baby is going to Bylo-land
Guided by mamma's own loving hand;
He needs no money his fare to pay,
\ For babies go free to Nod-away.
Cuddle down, darling, cuddle down,
We're going to Bylo-town.
Renton
SS
eto ts
Mamma is holding hin snng and warm,
Resting his little head on her arm;
Dimpled white hands still grasping his toy,
H Now fold them to rest, my baby boy.
Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, gently and slow
oe
H While mamma sings to him soft and low:
Dainty white eyelids begin to droop down
| Over the Inughing eyes, bonny and brown.
Cuddle down, darling, cuddle down,
We're going to Bylo-town.
A re
ae
~
PSUS Se
ae oe
ZO
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ee Zs
Oa ae
aot
ZS
SSS
— Sie
ne
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Tower they droop and at last they clase,
Just like the soft petals of 2 rose;
Hushed now and quict, the face 80 fase,
amneaiee ss
i
il |
i
No trace of sorrow or sin is there.
Now he shall go to his little bed, ‘
Over him gently the soft covers spread;
Cosy and warm in his downy nest,
Sweet be his dreams and quiet his rest.
ee
———
Sa
Cuddle down, darling, cuddle dcwn,
We're gojng to Bylo-town.
Father in Tleaven so loving and mild,
i 1 pray Thee look down on my little child;
Bless him, and keep him from evil fre=
| Till at last Thou shalt say,
i “Come home to Me.â€
|
i
i
co
es
iat
There were books, there were pictures in endless profusion,
The sick or the studious ones to beguile!
And the dark winter days were made cheerful and pleasant
By the. mother’s dear presence, her voice and her smile,
O, blest were the ties of affection that bound us!
O, joyously sweet were the songs that we sung,
When merry companions were gathered around us,
And familiar the scenes that we frolicked among!
Though many a banquet is spread for our pleasure,
Though oft from the fireside tempted to roam,
The heart will still cherish its fond recollections
Of the days that are past—and the good times at home.
COME FORTH, CHILDREN.
EDWARD YOUL,
OME forth on Sundays;
Come forth on Mondays;
Come forth on any day;
Children, come forth to play—
Worship the God of Nature in your childhood;
Worship Him at your tasks with best endeavor;
Worship Him in your sports; worship Him ever;
Worship Him in the wildwood;
Worship Him amidst the flowers,
In the greenwood bowers ;
Pluck the buttercups, and raise
Your voices in His praise!
THE MAN IN THE MOON.
“THE man in the moon who sails through the sky,
Is a most courageous skipper ;
But he made a mistake when he tried to take
A drink of milk from the “ dipper. â€
He dipped it into the “milky way,â€
And slowly, cautiously filled it;
But the “Great Bear†growled and the “Little Bear†howled,
And scared him so that he spilled it.
(
SERENE
OLIVER WENDEL HOLMES.
We have trod from the threshold of turbulent March,
Till the green scarf of April is hung on the larch,
And down the bright hill-stde that welcomes the day,
We have heard the warm breath of the boaudiful May.
(ell
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| :
at
ti
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THE NEW YEAR’S DREAM.
FANNIE ISABEL SHERRICK.
KNOW not why this wintry night _
J dream of summer hours—
Of roses hid beneath the snow,
Of sudden, swift-blown showers ;
Of rains that softly sweep away
The frowns from azure skies ;
Of tender noons when, hushed in sleep,
The dreamy landscape lies.
J know the flowers are dead and gone ;
They lie beneath the snow ;
And where thesunshine used to pass
The shadows come and go..
The purple lnlls are white and cold,
The mountains, too, so lonely ;
Yet, still, Ido not think of these,
But of the summer only.
In dreams I feel the roses’ breath
Upon my face—so sweet—
And scarce dare tread lest I should crush
The violets at my feet.
I feel the hush of rose-red dawns
And sunsets lost in splendor;
The summer world so filled with joy
And song notes soft and tender.
And then I wake to find the gloom
- Of dark and dreary days,
I see the shadow on the snow—
The somber wintry haze,
And wonder why the new year comes
With storm and driving sleet.
The pure young year—its birth should be
Among the May-days sweet. :
And yet, dear hearts, I know full well,
The flower-buds are but sleeping;
The summer gave, with loving trust,
Then all to winter's keeping;
And they will wake to sweeter life
Some day, when birds are calling;
So may our heart-blooms, hid away,
Be not beyond recalling.
ORIGIN OF THE SNOWDROP.
au E arrival of snowdrops in the city gar-
dens as the first blossoms of the welcome.
spring recalls a medieval legend in regard to
the origin of the flower. It states that
‘fone day after the fall, Eve stood in Para-
dise lamenting the barrenness of the earth,
which no longer produced vegetation and
where no flowers grew. An angel, pitying
her sad condition, exposed as she was to the
blinding snow which was falling at the time,
sete down to the earth to try to console
er.
«He listened to her complaints, and being
moved with pity for so much grief took in
his hand a flake of the snow, and, breathing
apon it, bade it take the form of a flower
and bud and blow. He at the same time
-added that the little blossom should be a sign
and a symbol to her that the winter was
over, and that the sun and the summer
would soon return. On raising her eyes to
_ express her gratitude to the angel he was —
nowhere to be seen, but on the place where
he had stood was a snow-white ring, which
she had no difficulty 1 in recognizing as com-
posed of snow-drops.â€
THE WESTERN AND EASTERN DOORS.
AMELIA E. BARR.
\ HISPER ‘* Furewell/†at midnight.
5 To the Old Year whisper low;
Then open the Western door,
Open, and let him go.
The work of the hands not good;
The will of the wavering mind;
The thoughts of the heart not pure;
The words of the lips not kind;
Faith that is broken or lost;
Hopes that are fading and dim;
Love that is selfish and vain—
These let him carry with him.
Whisper farewell to your doubts,
To follies and faults that you know;
~ ‘Phen open the Western door,
With the Old Year let them go.
Turn to the sunrising next.
When shadows are growing thin
Sef, open the Eastern door,
_ And welcome the New Year in.
Welcome the order brave—
“« More faithfully do your partâ€â€™â€”
Welcome the brighter Hope,
Welcome the kinder [leart.
Welcome the daily work,
Welcome the Household care;
Clasp hands with the Household Love,
Lift hands in the Household prayer.
Forgotten be all mistakes,
And over again begin,
When you open the Eastern door
To welcome the New Year in.
OUR LITTLE QUEEN.
Cp you have seen the violets
That blossomed in her eyes;
Could you have kissed that golden hair,
And drank those childlike sighs;
You would have been her tiring- -maid
As joyfully as I,—
Content to dress your little Queen, _ ~
And let the world go by. tee
AN
NN
AR
PM APM
Lif
Cit oi
ROL fa Me
ZL
I N_brown holland apron she stood in the kitchen;
Her sleeves were rolled up, and her cheeks all
aglow;
Her hair was coiled neatly; when I indiscreetly,
plone watching while Nancy was kneading the
ough.
Now, who could be neater, or brighter, or sweeter,
Or who hum a song so delightfully low,
Or who look so slender, so gracefully tender,
As Nancy, sweet Nancy, while kneading the dough?
How deftly she pressed it, and squeezed it, caressed it,
And twisted and turned it, now quick and now slow.
Ah me, but that madness I’ve paid for in sadness!
*Twas my heart she was kneading as well as the
dough.
At last, when she turned for her pan to the dresser,
Shesaw me and blushed, and said shyly, ‘‘ Please go,
Or my bread I'll be spoiling, in spite of my toiling,
If you stand here and watch while I am kneading
the dough.â€
I begged for permission to stay. She’d uct listen;
The sweet little tyrant said, ‘‘ No, sir! no! no!â€
Yet when I had vanished on being thus banished,
My heart stayed with Nancy while kneading the
dough.
TP’m dreaming, sweet Nancy, and see you in fancy,
Your heart, love, has softened and pitied my woe,
And we, dear, are rich in a dainty wee kitchen
Where Nancy, my Nancy stands kneading the
dough. ; John A. Fraser.
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REMEMBER.
Ree though box in the plural makes boxes,
The plural of ox should be oxen, not oxes ;
And remember, though fleece in the plural is fleeces,
That the plural of goose isn’t gooses nor geeses ;
And remember, though house in the plural is houses,
The plural of mouse should be mice, not mouses.
Mouse, it is true, in the plural is mice,
But the plural of house should be houses, not hice;
And foot it is true, in the plural is feet, |
But the plural of root should be roots, and not reet.
A PEE rlbO SO:
MARGARET SANGSTER.
HE days are short and the nights are long,
-And the wind is nipping cold ; |
The tasks are hard and the sums are wrong,
And the teachers often scold.
eons | olson ke Cre,
Oh, what cares he,
As he whistles along the way?
“Tt will all come right
By to-morrow nightâ€
Says Johnny McCree to-day.
The plums are few and the cake is plain,
The shoes are out at the toe;
For money you look in the purse in vain—-
It was all spent long ago.
But Johnny McCree,
Oh) what cares he,
As he whistles along the street ?
Would you have the blues
For a pair of shoes
While you have a pair of feet?
The snow is deep, there are paths to break,
But the little arm is strong,
And work is play if you'll only take
Your work with a bit of a song.
ee ae ] IR ot
“You ecollect there has been sung Ss
proverb famous trout tongue, see
hat he who fights and runy away
May live To fight anothers day.
x Es so ae EOFS
(| vi i S i
SRG
SITS
eee
SSS aa
SSSA VS
Sees
SS os a
2OR
Be Ki illy adage erred
ae And needs a Jubstifuted ward, —
«For he whe fights and Pung away .
May live fe Pun. anetnet oy
Ce ZA
Dp wy
er "Be,
e
And Johnny McCree,.
Oh, what cares he,
As he whistles along the road?
He will do his best,
And will leave the rest
To the care of his Father, God.
The mother’s face it is often sad,
She scarce knows what to do;
But at Johnny’s kiss she is bright and glad—»
She loves him, and wouldn’t you?
For Johnny McCree,
Oh, what cares he,
As he whistles along the ways?
The trouble will go,
And “I told you so,â€
Our brave little John will say,
NO KISS.
MADGE ELLIOT.
6¢T7 ISS me, Will,†sang Marguerite
To a pretty little tune,
Holding up her dainty mouth,
Sweet as roses born in June,
Will was ten years old that day,
And he pulled her golden curls,
Teasingly, and answer made,
“I’m too old—I don’t kiss girls. â€
Ten years pass, and Marguerite
Smiles as Will kneels at her feet,
Gazing fondly in her eyes,
Praying, ‘Won't you kiss me sweet?â€
She is seventeen to-day;
With her birthday ring she toys
For a moment, then replies ;
“T’m too old—I don’t kiss boys!â€
SA
BAG Ehi
et KK
sy
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y
MY
HVT LE
LNA
TO MZ
HIS WISH.
MARIE L, RITTER.
‘ :
8 N RASS QRS S y
SARE “S
My seven-year-old by the window stood, Does he hear the sound of spirit wings ?
When the rain was falling the other day, — Does he see a vision of heaven's own joy ?
A perfect picture of boyish mirth, Ts, he listening while the angels sing ?
dainty breath of lite’s early. May; “What are you thinking about, my boy? #
His eyes as blue as the azure skies, P I felt presumptuous to break the spell,
His mouth like an angel’s when he smiled ; ; He seemed so perfect—my tiny bua—
And I said, ‘* What beautiful thoughts arise But he said: ** Mamma, I’d just as lief tell:
In the sinless mind of a little child?†I wish I was digging out in the mud.â€
SA Vs
Sa
LLL
fleet Mees GeO ase aeniee ibis
HORATIUS BONAR.
HEY sing to me of princely Tyre,
That old Pheenician gem,
Great Sidon’s daughter of the North,
But I will sing of Bethlehem !
_ They speak of Rome and Babylon,
What can compare to them?
So let them praise their pride and pomp,
But I will speak of Bethlehem!
They praise the hundred-gated Thebes,
Old Mizraim’s diadem,
The city of the sand-girt Nile,
But I will sing of Bethlehem !
They speak of Athens, star of Greece,-
Her hill of Mars, her academe,
Haunts of old wisdom and fair art,
But I will speak of Bethlehem.
Dear city where heaven met with earth,
Whence sprang the Rod of Jesse’s stem,
Where Jacob’s star first shone ;— of thee
I'll sing, O happy Bethlehem !
HUMILITY.
HY home is with the humble, Lord!
The simplest are the best;
Thy lodging is in child-like hearts;
Thou makest there Thy rest.
Dear Comforter! eternal Love!
If Thou wilt stay with me,
Of lowly thoughts and simple ways,
I'll build a house for Thee.
Who made this beating heart of mine
But Thou, my heavenly guest?
Let no one have it, then, but Thee,
And let it be Thy rest!
SUGGESTIONS - For °
_ « (CHRISTMAS - (JAMES
°
fei Meer) (a eee omar
rele ty Uy Creel.
CHRISTMAS CROSS.
PLEASING and easily arranged substitute for a treeis across. This is.
arranged by making a rough cross out of pine planks or boards securely
fastened to a flat base. Cover the cross heavily with evergreen, and place
the monogram I. H. S. in large gilt or white letters at the center. Hang
gifts on the front of the cross by use of screw-hooks, and suspend them
from the back from common nails. A row of candles across the arms and
top of the cross is effective; and, if incandescent light is to be obtained, a
most brilliant effect is produced by putting a complete border of bright
lights around the cross; and even this effect is intensified by having the
lights in different-colored globes. The cross is especially appropriate for
Christmas exercises, and the programme should be arranged with reference
Gowivacniacts
FRENCH BLIND MAN’S BUFF.
Children form in a circle. One is in the center, blindfolded and
furnished with a stick. The children dance around ina circle, to music if
possible, until the blindfolded person knocks the stick on the floor. Then
- they stop instantly. The blindfolded person lifts the stick to some one in
the circle, and asks a question. The one addressed answers in a disguised
voice. As soonas the blindfolded guesses any one by means of the voice,
he changes places with that person.
GAME OF ADJECTIVES.
One player writes a letter, which of course he does not snow, leay ng
blanks for adjectives. He then asks each player for an adjective, filling up
the spaces in order as he receives them. The letter is likely to cause a
laugh when completed.
CHRISTMAS CHARIOTS.
By a little ingenuity and the use of some laths, some heavy wire, and a
child’s four-wheeled hand-cart—as large a one as possible—a very beautiful
fairy chariot can be made, by the introduction of which a most pleasing
entertainment is easily arranged. With the material above named, it is easy
to builda chariot. It should be made as fanciful and graceful as possible.
The canopy can be made by the use of a parasol, and the seat should be at
the back, and elevated. The chariot should be drawn in by four little fairies
dressed in pale pink, blue, green and yellow. The fairy queen, who occu- .
pies the seat in the chariot under the canopy, should be dressed in pure
white, and carry a wand and a bouquet. The gifts may be placed in the
chariot, but nothing should be visible that could possibly injure the fairy
effect.
CHRISTMAS UMBRELLA,
A very unique and easily arranged entertainment is that of an umbrella
in place of a tree. Take a large sized umbrella—a fancy colored one, such
as is used for advertising, or a large express-wagon umbrella—is especially
good for this purpose; bore a hole through the top just below the ferrule;
pass a heavy cord through the hole, and suspend from the ceiling, the um-
brella beiny spread, of course. Decorate profusely with tissue paper, paper
chains, pop-corn, or any of the ornamentations commonly used on trees, By the
use of pin-hooks the gifts can be hung on the cloth, and also on the ribs of
the umbrella. By a liberal display of tasty decorations this can be made
very effective and beautiful, and the work of preparing and clearing away is so
much less than that attending a tree that the umbrella is especially desirable
for parlor use,
CHRISTMAS CORNUCOPIA,
A large cornucopia can be easily made out of pasteboard, and covered
with gilt and colored paper. This should be hung from the ceiling by two .
M my
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strong cords, the large end of the cornucopia hanging lower than the small
end. A cover should be securely fastened over the mouth, or large end, of
the cornucopia, so that, when the fastening on top is untied or cut, the cover
will fall back, allowing the contents to roll out. Each gift should be carefully
wrapped, so as to prevent breakage. It is best that the mouth of the cornu-
copia should hang so as to empty the gifts out upon a large table.
DICKENS PARTY.
This is a gathering in masks and costumes. A book of Dickens is to be
selected to furnish characters for the party. Each person is expected to
appear on the appointed evening in the character assigned him, masked, cos-
tumed, and all the conversation is to be in exact accordance with the charac-
ters assumed. The players are to guess each other's assumed names and
characters.
Suppose, for example, the book selected is ‘‘ Bleak House.†“ Joe†will
appear as a forlorn street-boy with broom, and will sustain that character in
the evening’s conversation.
“My Lady-Dedlock†will be superb and dignified. ‘ Mrs. Jellyby†will
talk to all of her African Mission, and solicit aid for Borrioboola Gha. “Mr.
Turveydrop†will be very stiff and formal, and have much to say about “ de-
portment.†So with a dozen or more characters.
A Shakespeare party is arranged in the same way, a play being selected
for the characters, and each character is to appear in appropriate costume,
and masked, and is to assume the ancient form of conversation. This might
be followed by a Longfellow, Whittier, Cooper, or Lowell party.
TABLEAUX.
A very delightful evening entertainment can be got up by having
some interesting story read or poem recited, and illustrating its most pictu-
resque portions by a tableau, the reader pausing while the curtain draws
back revealing the grouped figure, then continuing the story until there is
another opportunity for an illustration. Of course, the management of the
tableaux requires taste and skill, but with a little practice it can be rendered
very effective. The arrangement for stage and curtain is simply done by
laying on the floor blocks of wood the required height, placing over them
planks in such a way as they will not tip, and then covering the whole with
carpet or rugs. In front of this platform extend a heavy wire fastened to
small hooks screwed in the wall; the curtain, made of any dark material, is
attached to the wire by rings.
DUTCH CONCERT.
The players sit or stand round the room ina circle. The leader assigns
to each some musical instrument, as harp, flute, violoncello, trombone, etc.,
and also selects one for himself. Some well-known tune is then given out,
and the players all begin to play accordingly, each doing his best to imitate,
both in sound and action, the instrument which has been assigned to him,
the effect being generally extremely harmonious. The leader commences
with his own instrument, but without any warning suddenly ceases, and
begins instead to perform on the instrument assigned to one or other of
the players. Such player is bound to notice the change, and forthwith to
take to the instrument just abandoned by the leader, incurring a forfeit if
he fails to do so.
CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS.
The company sit around, and each one whispers a question to his neigh-
ber on the right, and then each one whispers an answer, so that each
answers the question propounded by some other player, and of the purport
of which he is of course ignorant. Then every player has to recite the ques-
tion he received from one player and the answers he got from the other, and
the ridiculous incongruity of these random cross questions and crooked
answers will frequently excite a good deal of sport. One, for instance, may
say, “I was asked ‘if I considered dancing agreeable ?’ and the answer was,
‘Yesterday fortnight.’†Another may declare, ‘I was asked ‘If I had seen
the comet?’ and the answer was, ‘ He was married last year!’†A third, “I
was asked ‘What I liked the best for dinner?’ andthe answer was, ‘ The
Emperor of China ?’â€
WHAT IS ON IT.
_ Undertake to tell, after something has been written ona piece of paper,
what is onit. Take the writing, roll it up, and, after a few passes of the
hand, say, ‘“ Now drop the paper on the ground in the middle of the room,
and, to deprive me of all the chance of taking it up, place it under both your
feet.†I then proceed to take up any object named and inform you at once
what is on the paper. After a few mysterious moments to keep the specta-
tors on the alert, you turn to the person standing on the paper and say, “I
engaged to inform you what is on the paper. You are on it!â€
THE MINISTER'S CAT.
Draw your chairs in a sort of circle and let each person name an adjec-
tive beginning with the letter A, in this way: ‘The minister's cat is ambi-
SSerersar soe er Pe
eS
SpA pe IA ICEL OSE
PES oe PILE AIT
Lp Eger? LEE LE odo
LE EE.
EE EEG:
Le
EEE.
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FORGOTTEN BY SANTA CLAUS!
tious,†says one. Amphibious, esthetic, ancient, active, athletic, antartic,
say others, until everything beginning with that letter is thought of. Then
the letter Bis used. “The minister's cat is bumptious.†Others say bellig-
erent, bankrupt, benignant, beseeching, beautiful, etc. When you come to
C, the cat is cautious, courteous, contesting, confiding, cataleptic, contradict-
in; cruel, ete.
THE ORDER OF THE WHISTLE.
The candidate for admission to this Order must not have seen the game
before. Blindfold him and go through with such mock initiation as your
ingenuity may suggest, the most important part of which will be to put upon
him a cloak from the back of which must hang 2 short string with a small
whistle at the end. Then tell him that only o > thing remains to be done
to make him a member, he must ascertain who has the whistle, and after
sounding it once, unblind him and let the fun begin. Some one at his back
uses the whistle; he turns to seize it and of course carries it to some one @lse
to sound, and so the sport goes on.
WHAT IS MY THOUGHT LIKE?
The party sitting around as usual, one of them thinks of some person,
place, or thing—the Emperor Napoleon (the first or third will do), New
York, a coal-scuttle, the Island of Tahiti—anything, in fact, that first occurs
to him—and then he asks each of the company in turn,‘ What is my thought
like?†They, in complete ignorance as to the nature of the said thought,
reply atrandom. One says, for instance, “like a steam-engine ;†another,
“like a cavern;†a third, “like a tea-kettle.†When an opinion has thus
been collected from each one, the questioner tells what his thought was, ard
each player, under penalty of a forfeit, has to give a reason for the answer
made to the first question. We will suppose, continuing the instance just
begun, that the questioner says to the first in the company, “ My thought
was Napoleon III. Now, why is Napoleon III likea steam-engine?†Th
answer is ready enough: “ Because he goes at an uncommonly fast pace.â€
“Why is he like a cavern?†‘ Because his depth is one of his distinguishing
qualities,†replies the second. “Why is he like a tea-kettle?†“Of course
because he boils over occasionally,†says the third player, triumphantly; and
so the game goes merrily on through the circle.
ONE OLD OX OPENING OYSTERS.
This is a capital round game, and will tax the memory and the gravity
of the youngsters. The company being seated, the fugleman saya:
“One old ox opening oysters,†which each must repeat in turn with perfect
gravity. Any one who indulges in the slightest. giggle is mulcted of a forfeit
forthwith. When the first round is finished the fegleman begins again:
‘Two toads totally tired, trying to trot to Troy;†and the others repeat in
turn, each separately, “One old ox opening oysters; Two toads, totally tired,
etc.†The third round is, “‘ Three tawny tigers tickling trout,†and the round
recommences: ‘Oneold ox, etc.; Two toads, totally, etc.; Three tawny.
tigers, etc.†The fourth round, and up to the twelfth and last, given out by
the fugleman successively, and repeated by the other players, are as follows:
“Four fat friars fanning a fainting fly; Five fair flirts flying to France for
fashion; Six Scotch salmon selling six sacks of sour-krout; Seven small
soldiers successfully shooting snipe; Eight elegant elephants embarking for
Europe; Nine nimble noblemen nibbling nonpareils; Ten tipsy tailors teasing
a titmouse; Eleven early earwigs eagerly eating eggs; and Twelve twittering
tomtits on the top ofa tall, tottering tree.†Any mistake in repeating this
legend, or any departure from the gravity suitable to the occasion, is to be
punished by the infliction of a forfeit; and the game has been seldom known
to fail in producing a rich harvest of those little pledges. Of course, a good
deal depends on the serio-comic gravity of the fugleman.
THE BLIND POSTMAN.
This is a new variation of an old game called “ Marching around Jeru-
salem.†It is, however, more dramatic than the old-time favorite. The host
will usually offer his services as postmaster-general, or will assign the position
to some prominent guest. The postmaster-general appoints a postman, who
- is blindfolded, after which the company seat themselves around the sides of
the room so as to leave a large open space.
Cards must be prepared in anticipation of the play, on each of which is
printed the name of some city, all of the cards having a different name as
“Boston, New York, ‘Paris, Berlin, “london, “Rome ete™ Bhese
are distributed among the company each receiving the name of a city.
The postmaster-general takes a position where he can speak to the entire
company, and the postman takes his place in the middle of the room. He
now calls the names of two cities:
“ Boston to New York !â€
The players bearing these names must instantly rise and endeavor to
change seats with each other, and the blind postman must try tocapture one
of them before they can make the change. Should he succeed, he can exact
a forfeit of the person ‘caught, who in turn becomes the blind postman; and
so the game proceeds.
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ever despair! Let ihe feeble in, spirit ° . er
Bow like the willow ihat stoops fo the-blast. “>, - —
Droop notin peril! Tis manhoo’s true merit —_ A = =>
“—Nobly to struggle and hope to the last -- “~~ Lu
When by ihe sunshine of Joriung Jorsaken “2 ;
Faint sinks the heart of the craven with leah sees)
Stand like dhe oak of ihe foresr
Ole pale Sori
Snes
See hk > Siise
2 me
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< Nieverdespaie! Though adversity rages —
~~ Hleveely and fell as the surge on the shore. =
Firm ag the rock: of the ocean for ages —
fe Sland the rude torvent till danger is vey. Seen
~ %Â¥o~Fale with her whirlwind our joys may all sever,
True to ourselves we have nothing to fear, SS
"Be this our hope and our anchor forever,
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te s\ Never despair, boys: Oh, never despatr.
oS a ae ae eee or)
“CARRY YOUR GIFTS OF FLOWERS.’
MRS. F.S. LOVEJOY.
aak your gifts of flowers,
In memory of the brave;
Strew them thickly, like summer showers,
Over each soldier's grave.
Bravely they fought, and well,
_ Nor feared the battle’s strife,
And bravely for their country fell,
Dearer to them than life.
Then carry gifts of flowers,
And over graves ‘‘ Unknown â€
Strew the fairest from spring’s fair bowers,
*For God has marked each one.
“ Unknown’! No mother’s tears,
Or wife’s or sister’s care,
These graves have known thro’ changing years;
So place the fairest there.
Within our Nation’s grounds
Are sleeping, side by side,
The friends and foes; in all your rounds
Let no grave be denied.
Through the soft summer hours
They rest in quiet sleep,
While waving trees and blooming flowers
Above their vigils keep.
No more war's clarion cry
Will call them into strife; :
They’ve gained a glorious victory
And passed from death to life;
While over our fair land,
Even from sea to sea,
Floats undisturbed, on every hand,
Our flag of Liberty.
Then carry gifts of flowers,
In memory of the brave,
Who fought so well through weary hours,
This blessed land to save.
HOW TO CLIMB SAFELY.
HE safety of a mountain climber depends
upon being well shod; therefore, the Swiss
guides wear heavy shoes with sharp spikes
in the soles. On a bright July morning a
famous man of science started with two gen-
tlemen to ascend Piz Morteratsch, a steep
and lofty snow mountain in Switzerland.
Though experienced mountaineers, they
took with them Senni, the boldest guide in
the district. After reaching the summit of
Morteratsch, they started back, and soon
arrived at a steep slope covered with a thin
snow. They were lashed together with a
strong rope, which was tied to each man’s
waist,
“Keep carefully in my steps, gentlemen,â€
said Senni, ‘‘for a false step here might start
the snow and send us down in an avalanche.â€
He had hardly spoken when the whole field
of ice began to slide down the icy mountain
side, carrying the unlucky climbers with it
at a terriblepace. A steeper slope was be-
fore them, and ot the end of it was a preci-
pice. The three foremost men were almost
buried in the whirling snow. Below them
were the jawsof death. Everything depend-
ed on getting a foothold. Senni shouted
loudly, ‘‘Halt! Halt!†and with desperate
energy drove his iron nail boots into the firm
ice beneath the snow. Within a few rods of
the precipice Senni got a hold with his feet,
and was able to bring the party all up stand-
ing, when two seconds more would have
swept them into the chasm.
The narrow escape shows the value of be.
ing well shod when in dangerous places.
The lesson is especially needed by the young,
No boy is well prepared for rough climbing,
unless he is well shod with Christian princi.
ples. Sometimes temptation ices the track
under him, and then he must plant his foot
down with an iron heel or he is gone.
THE PICTURE OF A MAN,
W. SHAKSPEARE.
.
IS words are bonds} his oaths are oracles;
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate;
His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart;
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.
“ARE YOU HURT, WALLACE?â€
66 A RE you hurt Wallace, dear?†asked
_ Panzie, as she came running down
the bank the moment she saw Wallace fall
from his bicycle.
“Hurt! no, only shaken just a little,â€
answered Wallace, who had just ‘‘come a
cropper†through, not looking out for
stumps and snags.
«You see,†Wallace added as he picked
himself up from the ground, ‘‘ Pride must
have a fall, and the boys tell me that I shall
never be an expert manager of the bicycle
till I have had a dozen falls. And this is
only my third, so you see I have nine more
to have.â€
With this Wallace remeunted his trund-
ling wheels and was off whistling merrily.
“ARE YOU HURT, WALLACE?â€
OLD DOBBIN GRAY.
HE merciful man is merciful to his beast.
The man or boy who is merciful to poor
dumb beasts will never be very unkind to
any one. Farmer Armstrong was more than
merciful to his poor oid horse Dobbin Gray.
Dobbin had been a faithful servant for many
years, and now that he had grown old and
feeble he was not permitted to work any
more. Once aday the children brought him
out for a little exercise and Oscar, the farm-
er’s little grandson, was allowed a short ride.
Poor old Dobbin has a very happy old age
for everybody is kind to one who has been a
faithful servant for so many years.
LESSONS OF STEM AND LEAF.
E. P. ROE.
Eee purple-tipped strawberry run-
ner, every bud forming at the stem of
the leaf, every ripening seed, should teach us
that it is God’s will that we should live and
be happy in the future as well as in the
present.
s
EASTER LILIES.
AGNES MAUDE MACHAR.
H, where are the sweet white lilies,
Stately and fair and tall?
And why don’t they grow for Easter,
Down by our garden wall?
Dear, in the bare, brown garden,
Their roots lie hidden deep,
And the life is pulsing through them,
Although they seem to sleep.
And the gardener’s eye can see them,
In germs that buried lie,
Shine in the spotless beauty
That will clothe them by and by.
So may Christ see in us growing
The lillies he loves best—
The faith, the trust, the patience
He planted in the breast.
Not yet their crown of blossom,
But he sees their coming prime,
As they will smile to meet him
In earth’s glad Easter time.
The love that striveth toward him,
Through earthly gloom and chill;
The faithful, meek obedience,
In darkness following still—
These are the Easter lilies,
Spotless and fair and sweet,
We would bring to the risen Saviour,
And lay at his blessed feet.
EASTER EGGS.
ee is not altogether easy to establish the
connection between eggs and Easter Day,
as we have a number of superstitions to
choose from. The Persians, for instance,
used eggs asa New Year's gift, as symbolizing
prosperity. The Romans had egg games in
honor of Castor and Pollux, who were said to
have been hatched from an egg of the swan
Leda.
form of an oval, and decorated eggs were
given as prizes to the victors. As the new
year, with the Romans, began at Easter,
nothing was easier than to transfer the egg
custom from the Pagan to the Christian fes-
tival. Furthermore, eggs formed a part of
the Passover feast of the Jews, being put on
the table, we are told, “‘in honor of the
bird, Ziz,â€-a fowl holding as important a part
in the rabbinical legends as the Roe does
in the tales of the Orient. Itis quite possi-
ble, however, that our modern Easter eggs
had no such far-fetched beginning. In the
fourth century the eating of eggs during
Lent wag forbidden. But as the unothodox
hens continued to lay, there was naturally a
large accumulation of eggs by the close of
Lent. On Easter Day, then, they formed the
first “‘ flesh food†eaten, and they were set’
out in great platters upon the tables. As
the appetite was soon cloyed upon them, and
they were so plenteous, the suggestion prob-
ably followed to give them to the children
to play with, for which purpose, of course,
it was necessary to boil them hard, The
simple fact of the plenteousness of the eggs
at these medieval Hasters seems to account
readily enough for the fancy for decorating
them, giving them away, or using them for
sports. Later came in the emblematic idea,
which accepted the egg as an emblem of the
resurrection. The custom became very pop-
ular in Europe and continued to modern
- times. In France, eggs gilded and painted,
were brought as tribute to the King in
heaped baskets, and after being blessed by
the chaplain or bishop they were distributed.
The decorated eggs, filling the toy shopsand
hawked about in the streets, are now one of
the sights of Paris in Easter week, and
everybody gives everybody else an egg or a
picture of an egg in honor of the occasion.
In Russia Easter Day is Calling Day, as New
Year’s Day with us, and each swain who:
sallies forth has his pockets full of hard-boiled.
eggs. Meeting a friend, he salutes him
er
4 ~ =< gh
CST
be
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THE HERITAGE OF THE RICH
AND THE POOR.
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. RS
NS
abe rich man’s son inherits lands,
And piles of brick and stone and gold;
And he inherits soft, white hands,
And tender flesh that fears the cold,
Nor dares to wear a garment old;
A heritage, it seems to me,
One would not care to hold in fee '
The rich man’s son inherits cares:
The bank may break,’ factory Durn;
Some breath may burst his bubbles hares:
And soft, white hands would hardly earn
A living that would suit his turn;
A heritage, it scems to me,
One would not care to hold in fee.
What does the poor man’s son inherit?
Stout muscles and a sinewy heart;
A hardy frame, a hardier spirit;
King of two hands; he does his part
In every useful toil and art,
A heritage, it seems to me, -
A king might wish to holdin fee.
What does the poor man’s son inherit ? :
Wishes o’erjoyed with humble things;
A rank adjudged by toil-worn merit;
Content that from employment springs;
A heart that in his Ivbor sings;
A heritage, it seems to me,
} A king might wish to hold in fee.
} Both heirs to some six fect of sod,
3 Are equal in the ground at last;
Both children of the same dear God;
Prove title to your heirship vast,
By records of a well-filled past:
A heritage, it seems to me,
Well worth a life to hold in fee.
b.
i
i
after the manner of the early Christains:
“‘ Christ is risen!†To which the reply is
made: ‘‘ He isrisen, indeed!†Then the two
exchange eggs, and usually rub their beards
together in token of good will. Ladies who
“‘receive†have platters of gaily colored eggs
to give away, and always a kiss can be
claimed with the exchange of eggs, if either
party desires. In Scotland, where Haster
roper has been suppressed for centuries,
faster Monday is unfailingly celebrated
among the young people by rolling hard-
boiled cggs down hill. In England and in
the continental countries for centuries a
feature of the same day has been ball playing
with eggs, the hardest and the toughest one
proving the winner of the game. In the
villages of the continent another old custom
was to scatter a number of eggs on the village
green, when the young couples would dance
among them, and if any pair concluded the
figures without stepping upon an egg they
were to be regarded as affianced. This cus-
tom once brought about a very happy royal
marriage between Philibert the Handsome,
King of Savoy, and the fair Marguerita of
Austria, who successfully performed the egg
dance at Bresse on Haster Day, 1501, and
were married the same year. ‘The absurd
fiction which connects the rabbit or hare with
Raster. eggs comes from a German nursery
tale, and originated, no doubt, in the desire
of: some parent or nurse to hoax the children
as to the origin of their favorite eggs.
BONES! BONES! NOTHING BUT BONES!
| OW many bones in the human face?
Fourteen, when they’re all in place.
How many bones in the human head?
Eight, my child, as I’ve often said.
How many bones in the human ear?
Three in each, and they help to hear.
How many bones in the human spine?
Twenty-six, like a climbing vine.
How many bones in the human chest?
Twenty-four ribs, and two of the rest.
How many bones the shoulders bind?
Two in each: one before, one behind
How many bones in the human arm?
In each arm one; two in each fore-arm.
How many bones in the human wrist?
Eight in each, if none are missed.
How many bones in the palm of the hand?
Five in each, with many.a band.
How many bones in the fingers ten?.
Twenty-eight, and by joints they bend,
How many bones in the human hip?
One in each; like a dish they dip.
How many bones in the human thigh?
One in each, and deep they lie.
How many bones in the human knees?
One in each, the knee-pan please.
How many bones in the leg from the knee?
Two in each, we can plainly see.
How many bones in the ankle strong?
Seven in each, but none are long
How many bones in the ball of the foot?
Five in each, as in the palms were put,
How many bones in the toes half a score?
Twenty-eight, and there are no more.
And now, all together, these many bones fix
And they count in the body two hundred and six,
And then we have in the human mouth,
Of upper and under, thirty-two teeth.
And we now and then have a bone, I should think,
That forms on a joint, or to fill up a chink,
A seamoid bone, or a wormian we call,
And now we may rest; for we’ve told them all
TRUTH IN A STRAIGHT LINE.
THOMAS BASFORD.
Bee lies in a straight line, following
which a man may always stand erect in
the full dignity of his manhood; but false-
hood ever has a zigzag, underground course,
pursuing which he must bend his judgment,
twist his conscience and warp his manhood
till he ceases to be a man.
CONCERNING MONEY.
"BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
ND as for money—Don’t you remember
the old saying, ‘‘ Enough is as good as
feast’? Money never made a man happy
yet, nor will it. There is nothing in its
nature to produce happiness. The more a
man has, the more he wants. Instead of its
filling a vacuum, it makes one. If it satis-
fies one want, it doubles and trebles that
want another way. That was a true proverb
of the wise man, rely upon it: ‘ Better is
little with the fear of the Lord than great
treasure, and trouble therewith.â€
204
Sa FH B :
THE MUSIC OF THE MARSH.
Wien the sun is going down and the stars are at a twinkle, | Oh, Froggie, sing your song in peace—liftup your chorus shrill—
And the drapery of night falls down without a wrinkle, > ; And make the evening’s musical, though they be warm or chill.
AA quaint and curious chorus in the twilight is agog, We'd miss you in the May time with your tiny pollywog,
And ‘tis then we hear the music of the fair and festive frog. | If we didn’t hear your music, Ob, festive, merry frog. -
ON DUTY.
EMMA L. Soe
TNCLE ALEX came ont on the back pi-
Ue aaza With his newspaper, and was just
going te seat himself in one of the arm chairs,
when a very large spider, weaving its weh
among the vines, attracted his attention. Ie
went closer to ue at it, and presently called
to Neddie, who was playing in the yard:
“ Neddie come and see this huge spider.’
“T can’t come now, Uncle Alex,†replied.
Neddie; ‘Lam on duty.â€
Uncle Alex stopped looking at the spider
and looked at Neddie. He had a paper sol-
dier-cap on, and, carrying his toy gun, was
grayely pacing up and down before his tent,
which was pitched on the grass under the
big cherry-tree. Will Ramsey and two or
three other boys were in the adjoining
meadow galloping around on sticks and
flourishing wooden swords. ‘There was prob-
ably a battle going on, though the cows
chewing their cud under the trees didn’t
seem a bit frightened.
“What are you doing ?â€
alexa
“Tm a sentinel coe
Neddie.
**Can’t you come over here
if ] watch the tent ?
“No indeed,†answered Neddie decidedly.
“* Soldiers mustn't go away a second when
they’ re on duty.â€
‘Well, well,†said Uncle Alex, seeming
quite amused as he sat down to his paper.
Towards the close of the afternoon, when
the tent was deserted, and the boys were
playing something else at the other side of
the house, Neddie’s mother came out on the
porch from the kitchen carrying a small
asked Uncle
9
guard,†said
just a minute
basket. She looked hastily around, and
then called, ‘‘ Neddie, Neddie! where are
Ona:
“Tiere, mamma!†he shouted, bounding
around the corner of the house and up the
steps.
“YT want you to go over
get me two pounds of sugar and half a
eee of raisins†said his mother, adding,
as she gave him the basket and some money,
“Now “don’t be gone long. “I’m making
something good for supper, “and want those
things as soon as possible.â€
About ten minutes after Neddie had gone,
Uncle Alex started to the post-oflice. When
he reached the little brook which had to be
to the store and
crossed to get to the village, he saw Neddie
standing on the bridge throwing pebbles in-
to the water.
** Wello, Neddie!†he said, “I thought yor
wereon duty.â€
“No sir,†replied the boy, looking up in
surprise; ‘‘we’re not playing soldier any
more. Mamma sent me on an errand.â€
«‘Did she send you here to throw pebbles
inthebrook?â€
“No, sir; she sent me to the store for
something.â€
“1 thought I heard her giving you a com-
mission which was to be executed with
promptness and dispatch, and knowing you
to be such a soldierly fellow, who could not
be tempted away from duty a moment, I
wonder, rather, to see you standing here.â€
and Uncle Alex stroked his whiskers medi-
tatively and knit his brows as though he
was trying to study the matter out. |
Neddie, with a puzzled expression, looked
steadily in his uncle’s face for a moment or
two, and then turning toward the village
was off like a flash,
Uncle Alex was standing on the post-
office steps reading a letter, when he hap-
pened to see Neddie come ont of the grocery
store with his basket and walk rapidly home-
ward. Some little boys on the other side
of the street also spied him, and running
over, surrounded him, evidently wanting
him to stop with them alittle w hile, but he,
though in a very good-natured way, de-
clined there invitation, and kept on his way.
Ife realized that he was on duty.
JESSICA’S BOUDOIR.
A AY ARMITAGH?’S sister Emily has
Vi spent a summer in Europe and on her
return brought May the loveliest doll from
Paris with a little trunk of doll’s clothes.
‘There were at least seven different dresses and
usmany beautiful little hats. Since herreturn
from abroad Miss Armitage had changed
the name of her pretty little dressing room
tothe fine French name ‘boudoir.â€â€ May
soon caught up the new name and said her
doll could have a ‘boudoir †just as well as
Emily. She called her little doll Jessica,
and the quiet litle spot at the foot of the
big elm tree where May used to dress and
undress her beantiful doll was known as
« Jessica’s Boudoir.â€
tip
», WHEE Gy
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GY, is Lie
JESSICA’S BOUDOIR.
“NO YOU DON’T!â€
Sa has gone to sleep. She is thor-
oughly tired out, too tired to eat the
piece of cake that remains on her plate.
Master Tip has a very fine nose for cake,
and if there was no one else around he would
soon have that piece of cake between his teeth.
But Miss Malty, Susie’s little cat, ison guard,
and says just as plain as alittle cat can say:—
<“No yoy don’t Master Tip! Not while ’m
here. Y@u’re a nice sort of a dog to take
advgint 4m of your little Mistress being asleep,
if you" a boy you’d be mean enough to.
try and win a pair of gloves.â€
THE STOUTEST HEARTS ARE THOSE
THAT BLEED.
BY FATHER RYAN,
HE summer rose the sun has flushed
With crimson glory, may be sweet—
?Tis sweeter when its leaves are crushed
Beneath the winds’ and tempests’ feet. :
The rose, that waves upon its tree, =
In life,.sheds perfume all around—
More sweet the perfume floats to me
Of roses trampled on the ground.
The waving rose, with every breath. é
Scents, carelessly the summer air—
The wounded rose bleeds forth in death
A sweetness far more rich and rare.
It is a truth beyond our ken—
And yet a truth that all may read—
It is with roses as with men, >
The sweetest hearts are those that bleed.
The flower which Bethlehem saw bloom
Out of a heart all full of grace.
Gave never forth its full perfume
Until the cross became its vase.
SUNDAY MORNING TALKS.
VI. THE FOOL’S GREED.
THOMAS W. HANDFORD.
HERE is no great difficulty in under-
standing what the Bible means when it
speaks of a man as a fool. The phrase is
never used in the Bible in scorn of a man
of weak or imperfect intellect. The fool of
the Bible is not a man of unbalanced mind,
a mental weakling, or an imbecile; but one
who, blessed with reason, wilfully runs coun-
ter to the teachings of sound judgment.
The poor demented child who puts his hand
{n the fire, not knowing that the fire will
burn, is to be pitied and cared for most ten-
derly. But the man who, knowing that the
fire burns, still plays with fire, is a fool, and
has only himself to thank for the scorching
and the scars. In short, the fool of the Bible
is one who, blessed with the inestimable
treasure of a sound mind,-will not follow its
teachings. The fool of the Bible will sow
the wind, though he knows perfectly well he
must sooner or later reap the whirlwind; he
will turn aside from the fountain of living
waters, and spend his life and strength in
hewing out broken cisterns that he knows
can hold no water; he will make a mock at
sin, though he knows that the wages of sin
are death; he will look upon the wine when
it is red, though he knows that at the last it
biteth like a serpent and stingeth like anad- .
der. There can be no reasonable complaint
against the Bible for calling such men fools;
on the contrary, there should be great thank-
fulness that the Bible lifts its voice of warn-
ing with such clearness and fidelity. But
there is another kind of folly that takes very
largely the form of stubbornness, and be-
cause the impossible is not made possible
and easy, utterly refuses to give credence,
not to say faith, to that which is shrouded
in mystery. This folly says: <‘* What I can
not know I will utterly reject. There shall
be no place in my creed for anything that is
not capable of the most complete demon-
stration.†This is the arrogance of ignor-
ance. This is folly of the emptiest kind.
And there are many who are foolish enough
to boast that they are so far removed
from credulity and superstition that they de-
cline to believe anything that is not made
perfectly clear to them. Such a creed will
be very brief; in fact there will be nothing
torecord. The final step of such folly is to
complete the picture David saw. Folly per-
fected says: “‘There is noGod†That a
man may have serious doubts about the ex-
istence of a personal God, is quite easy to
understand. Some thingsseem too good to
be true, and faith stands faltering by. Some
things are too great for mortal grasping, and
not infrequently the blazing light in which
one stands so dazzles the feeble orbs of vis-
ion that the landscape about our feet is for
the time being hidden from our eyes. But
the man is a fool who, in the face. of all
the ten thousand probabilities that stand be-
fore him, avows the sad negation as his creed.
Let us never forget that religion, to be
worth the name of religion, must always be
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a hope rather than a demonstration. This
was enough for the Apostle Paul,a man whose
mind was so far-reaching and colossal in its
grasp that no man need be ashamed to fol-
low where he trod. Ile declared on the
plainest grounds the utter inexcusableness
of atheism. In his wonderful letter to the
Romans he says: ‘‘ Because that which may,
be known of God is manifest in them; for
God has shown it untothem. For the in-
visible things of Him, from the creation of
the world, are clearly seen, being under-
stood by the things that are made, even His
eternal power and God-head; so that they
are without excuse.†In other words, the
seen is wholly inexplicable, save on the
ground that it points to the unseen; and the
known is wholly unaccountable, save as it
points to a wide and boundless realm of the
unknown. ‘The folly of men who take a
negation for their creed is only seen when we
come to think of the poverty of such a creed.
Without God we are without hope, for the
life that is and for the life that is to be. We
can not dream of a world without God. God
can not be retired from our life, from our
world, from our homes. He is interwoven
in the warp and woof of the world’s history.
The creed of Atheism is the nightmare of
disordered souls.
Could I for a moment deem
God is not in all I see,
O how awful were the dream,
Of a world devoid of Thee!
But since Thou are ever near,
Ruling all that comes to me,
Ican smile at pain or tears,
For they come in love from Thee.
HOW DIMES ARE MADE.
HE United States Mint in San Fran-
cisco is said to be the largest of the
kindin the world. Just at the present time
there is a lively demand for silver dimes,
and twe of the money presses have been for
some tine running exclusively on this coin.
The dex and is so great that these machines
are not even stopped on Sunday. The pro-
cess of dime making is an interesting one.
The silver bullion is first melted and run
into two-pound bars. These in turn are
run through immense rollers and flattened
out to the thickness of the coin. These sil-
ver strips are then passed through a machine,
which cuts them into proper size for the
presses, the strips first having been treated
with a kind of tallow to prevent their being
scratched in their passage through the cur-
ters. ‘The silver pieces are then put into
the feeder of the printing presses, and are
fed to the die by automatic machinery at
the rate of 100 per minute, 48,000 dimes
being turned out in a regular working day
of twelve hours.
As the smooth pieces are pressed between
the ponderous printing dies, they receive
the lettered and figured impression in a
manner similar to that of a paper pressed
upon a form of type; at the same time the
piece is expanded in a slight degree, and the
small corrugations are cut in its rim. The
machine drops the completed coin into a
receiver, and it is ready for the counter’s
hands. The instrument used by the count-
er is not a complicated machine by any
means, as one might suppose. It is a sim--
pla, copper-colored tray, having raised edges
running across its surface at a distance
about the exact width of adime. TI'rom the
receiver the money is dumped on the board
or tray, and as it is shaken rapidly by the
counter the pieces settle down into the
spaces between the ridges.
All these spaces being filled, the surplus
coin is brushed back into the receiver, and
the counter has exactly 1,250 silver dimes,
or $125 on the tray, which number is re-
quired to fillthe spaces. The tray is then
emptied into boxes, and the money is ready
for shipment. The dime does not pass
through the weigher’s hands, as does the
coin of a larger denomination. One and
one-half grains is allowed for variation, or
*‘tolerance.†in all silver coins from a dollar
down, and the deviation from the standard
in the case of the ten-cent pieces is so
trifling that the trouble and expense of
weighing coins of this denomination is dis-
pensed with.
A GENTLE MOTHER.
ON’T imagine fora moment that that cat
is cruel because she carries her kitten in
her mouth. The truth is, it is just the ten-
derest way possible to carry a kitten about
Old Sue has long been a favorite at the farm.
She isa proud mother, as she well may be,
with that beautiful piece of ribbon round
her neck and that more beautiful kitten in
her mouth. A very proud and a very gentle
mother is old Sue.
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CHARLEY AND HIS PET.
GYP’S MORNING LESSON.
iN. Master Gyp, sit up and beg very
prettily and you shall have this piece
of sugar. But now mark, my dear little pet,
I have brought you out into Grandpa’s big
garden chair, because I want to give you a
special lesson this morning. You know,
Gyp, we have company in the house, and I
want you to behave in the best possible man-
ner. Specially I want you to leave. Kittie
alone.’ I’m sure she’s a well-behaved little
Kittie, and does you no harm, and yet for all
that I saw you chasing her all over the
garden yesterday, and finally to escape you,
she ran up a tree, and there you sat at the
foot of the tree barking for more than an
hour, and you would not let her come down.
Gyp, you ought to be ashamed of yourself,
And I really think by the look of your eyes
you are. Now do try and be a good dog,
don’t run out with your tail bristling up
every time you see a dog go by, as if you
were dying for afight. Bea good, obedient
dog, and I'l] take you a walk every day dur-
ing vacation, and you shall have a lump of
sugar every morning, as long as there is a
lump left in Grandma’s sugar bowl.
A BARREL OF WHISKEY.
DRAYMAN rolled forth from his cart to
the street,
A red-headed barrel, well bound and complete;
And on it red letters, like forked tongues of flame,
Emblazoned the grade, number, quality, fame,
Of this peal enowased whiskey from somebody’s
still, ate
Who arrested the grain on the way to the mill.
So there stood the barrel delivered, but I
Could see that a shadow was hovering nigh,
A sulphurous shadow that grew as I gazed,
To the form of Mephisto.
I ventured to question this imp of the realm,
Where Vice is the Pilot, with Crime at the Helm;
And asked him politely his mission to name,
And if he was licensed to retail the same
Identical barrel of whiskey which he
Was fondly surveying with demoniac glee?
“Oh, I never handle the stuff,†he replied,
“My mortal partners are trusty and tried;
Mayhap, peradventure you might wish to look
At the invoice complete—I will+tead from this book.
You will find that this barrel contains something
more
Than forty two gallons of whiskey galore.â€
And ere I could slip but another word in,
He checked it off gaily, this cargo of sin:
‘‘A barrel of headaches, of heartaches, of woes;
A barrel of curses, a barrel of blows;
A barrel of tears from a world-weary wife:
A barrel of sorrow, a barrel of strife;
Though sorely amazed,
A barrel of all-unavailing regret;
A barrel of cares and a barrel of debt;
A barrel cf crime and a barrel of pain;
A barrel of hopes ever blasted and vain;
A barrel of falsehood, a barrel of cries
That fall from the maniac’s lips as he dies;
A barrel of agony, heavy and dull;
A barrel of poison—of this nearly full;
A barrel of poverty, ruin and blight;
A barrel of terrors that grow with the night,
A barrel of hunger, a barrel of groans;
A barrel of orphans’ most pitiful moans;
A barrel of serpents that hiss as they pass
From the bead on the liquor that glowsin the glass,
My barrel! My treasure! I bid thee farewell,
Sow ye the foul seed, I will reap it in Hell!â€
THE LEGEND OF THE LOOM AND THE
: HAMMER.
JOAQUIN MILLER.
[ WAS living in Nazareth, a good many
years ago, when an old man asked me one _
sweet spring morning to lay my ear to the
ground and listen to what I might hear.
There was a dull, soft, far-away sound,
not much unlike the thrumbing of a grouse
in a fir tree high up on the wooded hills of
Oregon. Only this sound here at Nazareth
was softer, and too, it seemed not so monot-
onous.
The sound, heard only at rare intervals,
and when the wind lay very low, was at first
very faint, and very soft and doubtful. But
after awhile I heard a heavier and a harder
stroke. ‘Then the two would blend together
and then finally be lost, to be lifted up to
the thick tangle of foliage by the road-
side, which hung in festoons above and about
us, where the doves sat and sang, or the
bluebird flitted along in a line of sapphire.
But in the morning, if the morning is
still, and warm and pleasant, go out on the
hills and listen. Listen and believe, and
you will hear the low, soft and almost pa-
thetic monotony of sound of which I have
spoken.
«* And what does it all mean?†I at last
asked of the half-naked old son of Syria who
had constituted himself my guide and only
companion.
He put a whole pile of dirty fingers to his
thin, brown lips, and would not answer.
But as spring advanced, day after day we
went on the wooded hills to catch the sound.
Sometimes, not often, however, we were re-
warded, for in Nazareth, as well as else-
where, there are cloudy days, and days of
wind and storm. :
= SSSSS3
SSS SS SEs
SSN
AF SSSR
5 SS WSS H
Ss WSS!
SSs3
SSN
SENS
SS
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: oe -
Vi i
NY iH} Hh
i
GYP’S MORNING LESSON
But to cut the story short, as I was about
to leave this holiest place on earth to one
who loves the woods and believes in God,
the ragged old follower led me once more up
to the hills to lay my ear for the last time to
the bosom of the earth. JI never heard the
sound so distinctly before.
“What can it mean?â€
The old man crept close and whispered in
his wild and broken way: ‘‘Theloom! It
is Mary at her loom; and then the carpenter’s
hammer.â€
You understand? Then let it go at that.
But it then and there seemed to me as the
most beauteous thought, the most entirely
pathetic thing on all this earth, to feel that
through eighteen hundred years there still
echoed the sound of Mary’s loom and the
stroke of the carpenter’s hammer.
And I thought if I could teach the toiling
world that Mary still leans to hear the loom,
that Christ is still in some sort a carpenter,
I might maybe bridge over the awful gulf of
infidelity and lead the world to redemption.
But even if I could teach each laborer the
dignity of his labor, show him how God
worked at a trade, how the echo of the ham-
mer is still heard—if I could only teach one
poor broken hearted old woman bending to |
her toil that Mary toiled the same way, why,
that would be glory, glory enough and
enough of good.
ODD SAYINGS.
S poor as a church mouse,
As thin as a rail; 2
As fat as a porpoise,
As rough as a gale;
As brave as a lion,
AS spry as a cat;
As bright as a sixpence,
As weak as a rat,
As proud as a peacock,
As fly as a fox;
As mad as a March hare,
As strong as an ox;
As fair as a lily,
As empty as air;
As rich as Croesus,
As cross as a bear.
As pure as an angel,
As neat as a pin;
As smart as a steel-trap,
As ugly as sin; ’
As dead as a door-nail,
As white asa sheet;
As-flat as a pancake,
As red as a beet.
As round as an apple,
As black as your hat;
As brown as a berry,
As blind as a bat; .
AS mean as a miser,
As full as a tick;
As plump as a patridge,
As sharp as a stick.
As clean as a penny,
As dark as a pall;
As hard as a millstone,
As bitter as gall;
As fine as a fiddle,
.As clear as a bell;
As dry as a herring,
As deep as a well.
As light as a feather,
As firm as a rock;
As stiff as a poker,
’ As calmasa clock;
As green as a gosling,
As brisk as a bee;
Now let me stop,
Lest you weary of me.
WHAT THE BEES SAY.
‘¢ WONDER what the bees are trying to
say as they go buzz-buzz-buzzing in and
out of the hive?†said little Effie to her
Aunt, who had sat down for a little rest at
the end of their morning walk.
“T hardly know my dear,†said Miss
Windsor,†but I think we may easily fancy
what they would say if they could speak.
That little fellow who is crowding his way.
into the hive says—‘Dear me, I’m tired, but
Pve got such a load of honey. Every flower
has yielded honey. Ioney, honey, honey!
The world is full of honey.’ And that one just
settling on the white clover blossom says:
“There’s no time to be lost, winter is com-
ing, there is no time to be lost!’ And that
one winging its way in the distance, sings as
it flies, as if it would teach us that all our |
duties should be discharged with a glad heart.
So my dear, there are three wise lessons for
us at the end of our morning’s walk. The
world is full of honey—There is no time to
be lost—We should do our work with a glad
and merry heart.
HOW THE FARMER PACKS APP‘i_ES.
And now the cunning farmer packs
His apples for town;
This is the top row of his sacks
O000000000000000000
And this lower down
000000000000000000000000000.
A JAGUAR CATCHING FISH.
CLOVER BLOSSOMS.
JESSE HENDERSON.
TIYREADING, tripping, trudging through
The fields of blowing grasses,
Clover blossoms everywhere, ;
Tfow merrily time passes!
Clover blossoms white.and red
Swaying with the grasses.
Sce the summer's mnimic snow,
The daisy petals flying!
Hither, thither, everywhere,
Upon the grasses lying:
O’er the clover white and red
Daisy petals flying.
What is now the time of day?
Ask your gray heads olden,
Who would guess that ever they .
Were dandelions golden ?
*Mong the clover white and red. -
Blow the gray heads olden, \
Buttercups, your story tell
And say who’s fond of butter ?
Violets arise and dance
_ _ Por all the field's a-flutter!
See the clover white and red
Swaying with the grasses.
THE PRINCESS AND HER TEN SER.
VANTS.
A FAIRY TALE.
S6rFXTIERE was aking who had a little
daughter whom he loved very much.
He wanted to make hera beautiful and wise
princess ; so he sent her to a country where
she was to pass through many schools and
Jearn lessons that would fit her for her fath-
er’s home. This kind father did not send
his little daughter alone. He gave her ten
servants to wait upon and care for her.
“Pwo of these servants were to show her
all the beautiful and useful things that she
should mect within her absence, and when
she got homesick they were to bid her, look
up and tell it all to father, and he would
hear and comfort her. ‘Two more were to
help the little girl to hear sweet music and
sounds that would give her joy and pleas-
ure, and that would tell her abont what she
saw, and bid her always remember her fath-
er’s love. ‘Two more earried her wherever
she went; and poor indeed would she have-
been without these little servants. Another
told herall she wanted to say to those around
her, and sung hymnsof praise to her father,
the king. Two more helped her to do every-
thing that would give happiness to herself
and others about her; but the last servant
was only seen by her father and herself,
_ When this one did his bidding, then all the
x
other servants were faithful and true, and the ~
little girl was beautiful and happy. The last
servant always told his little mistress to love
her father dearly, and not want to guide the
other servants todo what would ~displease
him. Sometimes the princess would say to
herself, ‘Tather is not here,-and I will do.
what I please,’ then in spite of this servant’s
_ pleading she bade him guide the others inte
forbidden paths, and thus brought upon her-
self trouble and pain.
“You see that even a little princess, with =
ten servants to wait-upon her, may at times.
do naughty things.
.“ At last the loving father gave a ~com-
mand to each of his daughter’s servants, cal-
ling them by name as he spoke. The names
and command were these:
“«* Tittle Eyes, look up to God; .
Little Ears, hear His word;
Little Feet, walk Ilis ways;
Little Mouth, sing His praise;
ms Little. Hands, do His will;
Little Heart, love Him still.’
‘‘When the little princess heard these
commands, she made them into one great.
message for herself; and when she was
tempted to bid her servants to do wrong, she
would say: ‘No, no; I will not, for there are
**¢T wo little eyes to look to God;
ut Two little ears to hear His word;
Two little feet to walk His ways;
One little mouth ts sing Ilis praise;
Two little hands to do His will,
And one little heart to love Him still.’
«Then her whole soul would be filled with
love to her kind father, and_all wicked
thoughts would fly away.â€
NAIN.
LUTHER JOHN LOCKHART.
** And He camé and touched the bier; and they that bare
him stood still.’—Ludke 7; 14.
ASTER! and wilt thou come toowrsmall Nain,
Amid love’s lone farewells, and life’s sad
closes?
And wilt thou share our tears and ease our pain,
And touch the bier on which our dead reposes?
‘Well may the bearers pause, if thou draw near,
And the slow, mournful train entranced listen;
And well may smiles of wondering joy appear
’Neath low-drooped lids, where tears were wont to
glisten! : re
\
\
t
\\.
tee
- CLOVER BLOSSOMS.
QUESTIONS.
ce AN you put the spider's web back ig’ place
J That once has been swept away? :
Can you put the apple again on the bough
Which fell at ourtfeet today?
Can you put the lily-cup back on the stem,
And cause it to live and grow?
Can you mend the butter{ly’s broken wing
That you crushed with a hasty blow?
Can you put the bloom again on the grape,
And the grape again on the vine?
Can you pul the dewdrops back on the flowers,
And make them sparkle and shine?
Can you put the petais back on the rose?
Jf you could, would it smell as sweet?
Can you put the flower again on the husk,
And show me tharipened wheat?
€an you put the kernel back in the nut,
Or the broken egg in the shell?
Can you put the honey back in the comb,
And cover with wax each cell?
Can you put the perfume back in the vase
When once it has sped away?
Can you you put the corn-silk back on the corn,
Or down on the catkins? Say!
You think my questions are trifling, dear?
Let me ask another one: , ;
Can a hasty word ever be unsaid
Or an unkind deed undone?
NED'S WATER-WHEEL,
MRS. H. N. CADY.
66 _ O for the country!†shouted: Ned
Warren, as he rushed into the hall
of his New York home on the last day of
school. ‘* School is‘out at last, and now we
can go!†he declared, as he grasped his sis-
ter Nell around the waist and danced her
down the passage.
** Don’t be absurd, Ned!†remarked that
young lady, trying to free herself from his
arms. :
**Oh, well, perhaps you dont care to go!â€
he replied, letting her go in time. to catch
his mother, who had just reached the foot of
the stairs. *‘* Perhaps you like staying in
the city all summer, but I dont; ’m ready
to start this afternoon.†* :
“We ean start to-morrow, can’t we
mother?†he asked, caressing the sweet faced
little woman at his side.
** Not quite so soon,†she replied, return-
ing the caress he had given. ‘‘ We shall
probably start Monday; you certainly can
wait that short time when a whole two
months’ visit is before you,†she added, as
she saw the look of disappointment which
momentarily overshadowed his face.
**T suppose I’ve got to,†he replied, as he
"ment.
made his way up stairs to prepare for dinner. |
Monday came at last, and with it the jour-
ney in the cars and the subsequent ride over
the fresh country road to grandfather’s farm
far up among the New Hampshire hills.
Neyer were happier children than those who
jumped from the long buckboard and rushed
peil mell into grandma’s open arms. ‘The
barns and stables were visited, the dogs seen
and caressed, and even the turkeys and
chickens.had received their share of atten-
tion before the sun hid himself for the day
behind the great western mountain top, and
grandma’s voice called them to supper in
the long, cool dining-room. What a grand,
old room it was, with its rafters showing
overhead, and its great’ wide fire-place— ~
filled with logs which were ready to burst
into flame when the weather should become
cool—cutting, off one corner of the apart-
On either side of the chimney-piece
were the glass-covered cupboards, where
grandma’s best china and glass was displayed.
‘he supper spread upon the heavy oaken
table, was the final evidence to the children’s
minds at least, that they were really in
grandma’s home-at last. Nowhere else was
the butter so golden, or honey so tempting,
as here; and the precious seed-cakes, which
no one but grandmother knew so well how
to make, were there in profusion.
A whole summer before them, and this
delightful place to spend it in! Were chil-
dren ever so blessed as they? ‘‘ Never!â€
thought they, as they rushed down stairs the
following morning, and prepared to follow
the haymakers into the field.
But hay-making does not last forever, and
all new things become old in time, so when
at last a rainy day came, both Ned and his
little sister Ethel were far from dissatisfied
with their fate. Now, Ned could make the
waterwheel Joe Barney had told him about,
and Ethel might assist him, perhaps. Pos-
sibly the result would not have been as satis-
factory, however, if Joe had not come to the’
rescue, and given his active assistance, as
well as advice, in its construction. Joe was
a genuine Yankee, and consequently thor-
oughly at-home with his jack-knife. Hav-
ing liyed many years with grandfather War-
ren he was much attached to the children,
and was ever ready to assist them in their
small undertakings. =
The rain fortunately continued to fall all
day ; and before night Joe had not only coms
pleted the wheel, but a small trough also,
\
ASS
{ Re y
Sy =
NED'S WATER WHEEL.
nN J
} \ ES
through which he was to convey the water —
from the dam. ;
“But where aré we to get thedam?†asked
Ethel.
“Why, make it,
of course,†answered
Ned, as he examined the uprights upon which
the wheel was to turn.
‘*You think the brook in the lower mea-
dow lot will be better than that behind the
barn?†he went on, as he watched Joe sand-
paper the ends of the axle.
“Yes,†replied Joe, ‘it will be out of
the way there; and your grandfather might
object to our filling up that one. The cattle
water there sometimes, you know.â€
“ When do you believe you'll get a chance
to help me build it?†asked. Ned, full of his
project.
‘Might haye a few minutes to-morrow if I
don’t have to go to town,†he continued, as
the thought suddenly came to him, “you
and Ethel could fill up the brook just below
the old wall with those stones I threw into a
heap last spring. You'll find them close by the
spot where I mean, and ('ll run down to-mor-
row morning after breakfast, and show you
how.
- True to his promise Joe went with the
er jren on the following “morning, and
showed them how to pack the stones, The
spot which he had chosen was one where the
brook having suddenly narrowed, forced itself
a channel between two quite steep banks.
“For,†said he, ‘if we took a shallower
place the water would spread out more, and
we shouldn’t get enough force on our wheel.â€
Then he-lifted a few of the larger stones in
with thesmaller onesat hand. By noon they
had filled in quite a wide space, leaving a
narrow channel fer the water to run throu gh.
When grandpa heard what they were try-
ing to make, he let Joe off for the rest of the
afternoon; and with his assistance they pro-
gressed much more rapidly with their work.
‘After the brook had been filled for some dis-
tance with the stones, Joe shoveled in some
coarse gravel, and later, when the passage
for the water was finally stopped, he covered
the whole with sods, pounding them in place
with his foot.
of the dam carefully and solidly, like a wall;
and finally when the trough had been fitted
or sunk slightly into the str ucture, the large,
dat stones Joe had reserved for the purpose
were placed on top, and the children had the
satisfaction of seeing a full shimmering
stream fall from the trough.
Now they built up the face.
'
mer brought: it into usefulness again.
It was but the work of a few minutes te
-place the wheel in position, When it began
to turn rapidly over and over, making a soft, —
dreamy kind of creaking sound; pleasanter
to the children’s ears than the most enchant-
ing music.
During the long summer, that water-wheel
was ever a source of amusement to the chil-
dren; and even the older members of the fam-
ily shared to some degree in their delight. -
When the fall came, and they were to return
to their city home, it was taken from its place
in the brook and stored in the shed loft,
where it would safely rest until another sum-
and
there it rests to-day. .
GROWN-UP LAND. ~
OOD-morning, fair maid, with lashes brewna?
Can you tell me the way to Womanhood
town?â€
**O, this way and that, way—you can never stop.
*Tis picking up stitches that grandma will drop,
Tis kissing the baby’s wee troubles away,
*Tis learning that cross words never will pay,
"Tis helping mamma, ’tis sewing up rents,
*Tis reading and playing, ‘tis saving the cents,
Tis loving and smiling, forgetting to frown—
O, that is ‘the way to ‘omanhood Town.â€
66
‘‘Just-wait, my brave lad; one moment I pray.
Manhood Town lies where—can yeu eu me the
way?â€
‘“O, by toiling and trying we reach that eee
A bit with the head, a bit with the hand:
‘Tis by climbing up the rugged hill Work,
Tis by keeping out of the wide street Shirk,
Tis by alway s taking the weak one’s part,
"Tis by giving mother & happy heart,
Tis by ke eping bad thoughts and actions down—
O, that is the way to Manhood Town.â€
And the lad and the maid ran handin hand |
To their fair estates in the “Grown-up Land.â€
HETTIE’S THANKSGIVING DAY
ESCAPADE.
MAY BLOSSOM DAVIS,
MIERE is something very lovely in the
affection between old people and chil-
dren —the first are so full of the rich and’
useful experiences of along life, one that has
solved all the mysteries and surmounted all
the sorrows of living, and is looking earnestly
forward into that which is to come with a.
new and almost longing interest, as if their
feet had already begun to tread the holy soilâ€
of the sweet Beula land. . What wonder that
they love to guide and instruct the little
=
ae ad
SS
9 a
SS
HETTIE’'S THANKSGIVING DAY ESCAPADE. .
ones, und show them how to ayoid the dan-
ers and mistakes along the way of life.
While the children, in their first strange
awakening toa new and untried world filled
with the wonderful and the great, cling to
the old, who have solved all these mysterious
secrets, wilh a reverent admiration that is
akin to worship.
So while the one gives loving and hopeful
connsel, the other gives a trustful affection
and depencence, Hoa
[ remember a story told me by a lady who,
when a little girl, loved her grandmamma
very tenderly, ‘They lived in New England,
where fhauksgiving Day is one in which it
would be almost beathenish not to attend
chureh and render thanks. So, although
tho day broke cold and threatening and the
snow lay deep upon. the ground, the old
alcigh, filled with furs and blankets, and the
faithful horse, were brought out to convey
the family, even to the old grandma, to
ehorebi
The little zirl and her younger sister went
too, but during the service they crept over io.
the back of tihe church to get near the fire,
and over there where the minister’s voice
sounded indistinct and far away, they forgot
they must not whisper, and hence began to
talk about their Thanksgiving dinner that
was coming, and what wonderful things
grandina had been preparing in the way of
pies and cookees. a
“She must be very tired from so much
work,†said Hettic, the older.
“ Yos, poor grandma!†replied the little
-one pathetically,
“f'l) tell you what well do to surprise
», her face lighting up glee-
fully with a new thought; “we'll take old
Jack and drive home, and get the table all
prey j fully, with holly on it and
red HeAU
feras, too,and that willsurprise her and help
her ever so much, Weean get back before
ehereh is ever’
a 1 . ? fy - 4 Ta al e
So two childish fleures ventured tinudly
ont of the chureh door and found a light
snow falling: but everything was no
vats and t] fi snow muffled all sound
as they tool Jack out of the shed and
slack-
nt to
1 flakes on their little faces
upturned to the wintry sky filled with white
spocks slowly falling far as the eye could see
into the cloudy dome above. They had great
sport trying to catch the light flakes on thei~
Bui they soon
2 iL was so ple:
drove briskly
ened thei pa
gateh the sett, co
warm, rosy lips, and letting it slowly melt.
But when they tired of that sort of play
they found that old Jack had lost the road
and had wandered into a shady forest alto- :
gether unlike the tree-lined road that led to
their home. There was vain striving to find
their way back, but they became confused in
another sleigh-track and finally gave up in
despair. Vainly they had endeavored to find
their road back, when, as the afternnon was
wearing away, worn out and drowsy with the
cold they curled up in the furs in the bot-
tom of the sleigh and went to sleep.
‘It was grandma who missed them before
church was over, and going out found, to her
consternation, that-the sleigh was gone.
Old and feeble though she was, she did
not disturb the church service, but bravely
started out to track the fugitives through
the snow. It is useless to try to describe the’
faithful love that bore the hardships which
she went through for her darlings that day.
But after long following at last she found
them, and without waking.them drove home
where the anxious ones were preparing to
make a great search for the lost ones — grand-
ma and all. 4 G
I was not informed, but I will venture to
say that the Thanksgiving dinner was a very
happy one, and enjoyed in utter forgetful-
ness of the past troubles of the day. How
could it fail to be when such gentle self-sac-
rificing love bound together the hearts of
those at home?
TACT,
ACT is the life of the five senses. It is
_ the open eye, the quick ear, the judging
taste, the keen smell and the lively touch.
‘Talent is power, tact is skill; talent is weight,
tuet is momentum: talent knows what to do,
tuet how to do it; talent is wealth, tact is
ready money.
ANYTHING FOR QUIET.
TPATILTER came home and found his boy
b Filling all the house with riot,
Banging madly on his drum,
While his mother in the room
Sat serencly, unmoved by it.
“Madam,†said the irate sire,
*¢J would stop this nvise—or try it.â€
“ No, you wouldn’t,†answered she;
“ Were you vexed all day like me,
Â¥ou’d do anything for quiet.â€
ANYTHING FOR QUIET.
thon wilt not leave it.
"GOOD ADVICE.
HEN the weather is wet,
We must not fret;
When the weather is dry,
We must not cry;
When the weather is cold,
We must not scold;
When the weather is warm,
We must not storm,
But be thankful together
Whatever the weather,
THE SEARCH FOR HAPPINESS.
LYON F. TOLSTOL
JIERMIT lived in the forest, and feared
not the wild beasts. The hermit and
these beasts talked together and understood |
each other.
One day the hermit was lying under atree,
and near him, to spend the night, there had
come arayen, a pigeon, a stag and a serpent.
These animals began to discuss the origin of
evil in the world.
The raven said: :
‘Evil comes from hunger. When thou
hast eaten enough, and: art perched upon a
tree, cawing, everything seems bright, good,
joyous; but only fast two whole ‘days, and
thou hast no more heart for nature —thou
art agitated, thou canst not stay in wne place,
thou hast not a moment of repose; if a bit is
found, that is still worse—thou clashest at
it without thought. It is in vain to strike
thee with a stic ‘k, or to throw stones at thee;
dogs or wolves. may suap at thee in yin —
How many among us
has hunger killed thus! All evil comes from
hunger.’ :
The pigeon said: «
“© Tt does not seem. to me that hunger is
the .cause + evil; all evil comes “from
love. If we lived each for and by ourselves.
we should not sutfer so much—at least we
should suffer alone; while since we liye
always in couples, and thou lovest thy com-
ae so much, thou hast no rest, thy
thoughts are only for her: Has she eaten?
Is she ¥ warm enough? ‘And if she flies away
for awhile, then one is wretched indeed,
_ haunted, by the fear that she has been car-
ried off by a hawk or snared by men. And
thou beginnest to search for her, and thou
fallest thyself into trouble, it may be into
the claws of a hawk or the meshes of a net.
And if thy companion is indeed lost, then
‘thou, canst “neither eat nor drink; thou canst
“by destroying thee.
,
only search for her and weep. How many of
us have died thus! All evil comes not fron -
hunger but from love.â€
The serpent said:
“‘No; evil comes neither from hunger nor
from lov e, but from malice... If we lived
quietly, if we did not pick quarrels, all would
go well; while, if anything is done contrary _
to thy w vill, thou art angry, “everything offends
thee, all that thou thinkest of is to pour out
thy rage against some one; and then, as if
mad, thou hissest and twistest and seekest to
bite someone, And thou hast pity on none.
Thou wouldst bite father or mother, thou
wouldst tear thyself even, and thy fury ends
All eyil comes from
malice.â€
The deer said:
No} it is neither malice, nor love, nor
hunger that causes evil; -it is fear, it
one need not be afraid, all would be well.
Our feet are light for the race, and we are
strong. Froma small animal we can defend
oursely es with our antlers; a large one we can
tly from; but that does not save us from fear.
tia branch eracks in the forest, if a leaf
ae thou tremblest suddenly with fright,
thy feart begins to beat as if if would burst
from thy bosom, and thou flyest like an.
arrow. ‘Another time itis hare that yiasses,
a bird that moves its wings, or a limb that
falls; thou imaginest thyself pursued by a
Suv age beast, and it is toward the danger that
thou runnest. Sometimes, to avoid. a dog,
thou fallest upon the bunter; sometimes,
seized with fear, thou flyest thou knowest not
whither; thou makest a ‘leap; it is over a prec-
ipice where thou findest thy death. Sleeping
with one eye always open, always on the
alert, always terrified, there is no peace. All
evil comes from fear.â€
Then the hermit said: ee
“Our unhappines ss comes neither from
nunger, nor from iovye. nor irom malice, nor
trom fear. Itis from our own nature "that
evil comes, for it is that which causes hunger,
love, malice and fear.â€
THIS DOG OF MINE IS KIND AND TRUER.
AHIS dog of mine is kind and true,
His honest eyes with friendship shine;
A better dog you never knew,
Believe me, than this dog of mine,
My will to him is more than law—
He is my subject, I his king;
At my command he'll shake a paw,
Fetch, carry, beg, do anything.
SES
eS
~
“THIS DOG OF MIN® IS KIND AND TRU
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The Puzzled Ce nsus-Taker.
JOHN G. SAXE.
Nein†—pronounced “nine'—is theGerman for ‘No.
“ Got any hoys?†the marshal said
To adady fram over the Rhine;
And the lady shook her flaxen head,
And civilly answered “ nein!â€
“ Gotany girls?†the marshal said
To that Jady from over the Rhine;
And again the ludy shook her head,
- And civilly answered “ neine!â€
* But some are dead?†the marshal said
To the lady from over the Rhine;
_ And again the lady shook her head,
And civilly answered “neince!â€
** Hushand, of course?†the marshal said
To the lady from over the Rhine;
And again she shook her flaxen head,
And civilly answered ‘ neine!â€
* The denee you have!’ the marshal said
To the lady from over the Rhine;
And again she shook her flaxen head,
And civilly answered “ neice!â€
“Now, what do you mean by shaking your head
And always answering ‘eine 2?
“Teh kann nicht Englisch? civilly said -
The lady from over the Rhine.
GOLDEN CURLS AND A HEART
OF GOLD.
J met one day not long ago
‘A dear little maid whose nume you know,
She'd a ruby mouth, two sapphire eyes,
A nice enough nose for a girl of her size;
But oh! her curls! :
That sweetest of girls
Had a head of adorable golden curls!
Red gold curls,
The cunningest quirls—
I fellin love with those golden curls!
But I afterwards found, to my glad surprise,
That neither those curls, nor the nose, nor
eyes,
Were of this little maiden the very best part,
For she had what was better—a golden heart!
Heart of gold— i
For young and for old—
Golden curls and a golden
A MOTHER'S DIARY.
Morning! Baby on the floor,
Making for the fender;
Sunlight seems to make it sneeze;
Baby ona “bender!â€
All the spools upset and gone,
Chairs drawn into file,
Harness strings all strung across,
Ought to make one smile.
Apron_clean, curls smooth,, eyes blue;
(Ifow these charms will dwindle!)
For I] rather think — don’t you—
Baby “is a swindle?†a
Noon! A tangled silken floss
Getting in blue eyes;
Aprons never will keep clean
Tf a baby tries!
One blue shoe untied, and one
Underneath the table ;
Chairs gone mad, and blocks and toys
Wellas they are able.
Baby ina high-chair, too,
Waiting for his dinner,
Spoon in mouth; I think— don’t you—
Baby “isa sinner?â€
SSS
——S—
pee
Night! Chuirs all set back again,
Slocks and spools in order;
One blue shoe beneath a mat
Tells of a marauder;
Apron folded on the chair,
Ptaid dress torn and wrinkled ;
Two pink feet kicked partly bare,
Little fat knees crinkled ;
Jn his erib, and conquered, too,
By sleep, heaven’s best evangel.
Now Esurely think — don’t you —
“Baby isan anvel?â€
i
iff
Lg
Ui ee
55
ety aS
A Ta PE
jee ae
BI
fenee, while
’s brand-new doll
splendor of its ~
cted this very
puppies have been
Lizbeth
es its beauty and the
and is over the
she lerps over the fence with Liz-
Topsy wWl have torn and disse
ns
8 precious little
come !
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And sh
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itense
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rene is a look of i
Lr
beautiful doll, and then she will be aven
taken away and drowne
Lizbeth comes screaming after.
Wary
ITT LY
A MONKEY SUSPENSION BRIDGE.
CAPTAIN REID. -
#2 HEY are coming toward the bridge;
they will most likely cross by the rocks
- yonder,†observed Raoul.
“Oh, no!†answered: the Frenchman.
** Monkeys would rather eo through fire
than water.
they will bridge it.â€
* Bride itl—and how?â€
“Yon will see in a moment.†my com-
panion replied.
Presently the monkeys appeared on the
- opposite bank, headed by an old gray chicf-
tuin, officered like so many soldiers. One,
an aide-de-camp, or chief pioneer, perhaps,
ran out upon a projecting rock, and after
looking across the stream, as if caleulating
the distance, seumpered back and appeared
to communicate with the leader. ‘This pro-
dnced a movement in the troops. Mean-
while several of the monkers (engineers, no
doubt) ran along the bank, examining the
trees on both sides of thearrayo. At length
they all collected around a tall cotton-wood
that grew over the narrowest part of the
stream, and twenty or thirty of them seam-
pered- up its trunk, On reaching a high
point the foremost, a strong fellow, ran out
npon a limb, and taking several turns of his
tail aronnd it, slipped off and hung head
downward. The next on the limb, also a
stout one, climbed down the body of the
first, and whipped his tail tightly round the
neck and forearm of the latter, dropped olf
in his turn, and hung head downward. The
third repeated this mancuver upon the see-
ond, and the fourth upon the string rested
his forepaws upon the ground. ‘The living
chain now commenced swinging backward
and forward like a pendulum of a clock.
The motion was slight at first, but gradually
inereased, the lower monkey striking his
hands yiolently on the earth as he passed
tangent of the oscillating curve. Several
others upon the limbs above aided the move-
ment. ‘This continued till the monkey at
the end of the chain was thrown among the
branches of a tree on the opposite bank.
Here, after two or three vibrations, he
clutched a limb and held fast. his move-
ment wag executed adroitly, just at the eul-
mination point of the oscillation, in order to
save bhe intermediate links from too sudden
a jerk. The chain was now fast at both
ends, forming a complete suspension bridge,
If they cannot leap the stream
over which the whole troop, to the number
of four or five hundred, passed. Jt was a
comical sight to witness the quizzical expres-
‘sion of countenances along the living chain.
After the troops had passed, one monkey
attached his tail to the lowest end of the
bridge, another girded him in the sdme man-
ner, and another, until a dozen or more
were added to the string. These iast were
powerful fellows, and running up a high
limb, thev lifted the bridge into a position
almost horizontal. Then a seream from the
monkey of the new formation, warned the
tail end that all was ready, and the whole
chain was swung over and landed safely on
the opposite bank. The lowermost link now
dropped off like a melting candle, while the
Ingher ones leaped to the branches and came
down by the trunk, The whole troop then
scampered eff into the chapparal and dis-
appeared,
THE BRAVEST OF BATTLES.
TOAQUIN Rrrert
DE bravest battle that ever was fought,
Shall I tell you where and when?
On the maps of the world yow'll find it not;
Twas fought by the mothers of men.
Nay, not with cannon or battle shot,
- With sword, or nobler pen;
Nay, not with eloquent word or thought
From mouth of wonderful men,
But deep ina walled-ap woman’s heart—
A woman that would not yicld—
But bravely, silently bore her part—
J,o! there is that battlefield,
No marshalling troop, no bivouac song,
No banner to gleam and wave!
But, oh, these battles! they last so long—
From babyhood to the grave!
PUNCH AND JUDY.
UNCH AND JUDY. is one of the oldest
forms of amusement in the world. It
is quite wonderful how many men have made
large fortunes exhibiting this simple merry
show. ‘his kind of entertainment is very
common at seaside resorts. All kinds of ©
people young and old seem to delight in
Punch and Judy. There is comedy and
tragedy allin one. You see the clergyman
at the left hand side of the picture—who is
at the seaside for his vacation is just taking
a quiet peep. And really Punch and Judy
well done, is a very enjoyable performanee,
“PUNCH AND JUDY.
LARRY’S ONLY FRIEND.
| ARRY was the gardener at Captain Os-
borne’s, and he declared he had only.
one friend in the whole family on whom he
eonld rely, and that was Master Bernard.
~. He was ordered here and ordered there, and
said in his quaint way, he was nearly
‘The Captain was a
as he s
always ‘‘in hot water.â€
cross man and the ladies of the house neyer-
had patience enough to let a seed grow ora
-flower bloom. ‘They wanted spring flowers
Jong before the frost had gone and expected
grapes to be ripe and asters to bloom in June,
Bat Larry said Bernard was a gentleman if
ever there was one in the world. Bernard
was really a kind thoughtful boy and spoke
kind words to Larry, whenever he had an
epportunity. And you may be sure that
Bernard didn’t often go to school without
one of the most beautiful flowers Larry
could tind in the garden.
NIGHTFALL.
JOSIAH “ALLTN'S
WIFE.
Cae o'er the meadow, and murmuring mere;
Palleth ashadow, near and more near;
Day like a white dove floats down the sky;
Cometh the night, love, darkness is nigh,
So dies the happiest day.
; SSniy. is! near;
g love, dies on my breast,
white dov € ies down the West;
a
JOHNNIE Vv WAITE.
ANSIB M. LEBBIE.
OFNNIE WAITE — the boys called him
ey “Couldn't Waite,†be used those words
so often — went home from school one night
and gave his weekly report to his father.
The family were atsupper. Mr. Waite took
the report after he had finished his biscuit
and looked at it. There were five black
marks on it. We turned to Johnnie:
‘“ What was this mark for Monday?â€
oa ran by Phil Black going out in the
line.â€
‘© What was that for?
*“T couldn’t wait ie him to go along,â€
said Johnnie, “and—†|
“That will do’ said his father, * and
Wednesday’s mark?â€
**7 upset some ink on my writing-desk.â€
** And the two on Thursday?â€
Many:
ae his horse over the bar.
«
whispered to him.â€
““Couldn’t wait till recess, I suppose,â€
said Mr. Waite, stroking his moustache te
hide a smile.
“And I took out my sling shot —†John-
nie’s uheeks were growing redder than usual.
«* And to-day! ae
“IT ate an apple,â€
dropped.
‘Another ‘couldn’t wait,’ †said his father;
*fand you went to school this morning with=
out sweeping the steps, and this afternoon
without giving Ponto his dinner; you didn’t
take the note your mother asked you to carry _
to Mrs. Bracket, you tipped the baby over in-
stead of going round him, and you left the
front door open and somebody came in and
took my silk umbrella, and: all because you
couldn't wait. Well, you’l-have to have a
lesson, young man, that will break up this
habit of yours.â€
Mr. Waite ae: a cookie, played a few min-
utes with the baby, and then went dowk
town.
Johnnie ate four cookies, and then went
into the parlor. Great-aunt Mary Sherwin
sat in the bay window knitting.
‘Did you ever hear of your great-creat.
uncle ‘Titus Foss?†she asked, peering
through her glasses at Johnnie.
Jonnie said.“ No'm,†and wondered how
old a great-ereat-uncle could be. ~
“Ife couldn't wait,’ continued great-aunt
‘T'll take you over to Lyine some
day, and show you the nick in the door of
the old house where he threw the stove hook
at the eat beeause he couldn’t wait for her te
step along. ‘That mark’s been there fully
fifty vears.
“One night Uncle Titus was driving home
from amden, and he came to a bar with a
lantern hanging from it, right across the
road. “S'was just before he got to the tolt
bridge. Uncle Titus couldn’t wait. He
The tollman
said he ran ont to tell him part of the bridge
was np for repairs, but Uncle ‘Titus couldn't
wait. he river was high and he and the
horse were washed down stream and
drowned.â€
Great-aunt Mary rattled her knitting
needles swiftly, and Johnnie, secing that the
story was done, ran away to play.
When he came into the dining-room the
next morning he found breakfast, cleared
away and mamma feeding the canaries. She
293
and Johnnie’s head.
2
0
aie
;
oN
wy
ALTE
. zk Tre i i Nia ANY
= VAY SAN Ly | iy f * i y \ “
ee |
RSENS Sued:
er he we
: HONEY ny t
said they thought they couldn’t wait for
him, and Johnnie went into the kitchen and
begged some bread and milk from Mary. He
went back to ask if his father left the quarter
of a dollar he promised the day before, that
Johnnie might pay for a share in the new
foot-ball club some of the boys in his class
were getting up, but Mrs. Waite said, ‘‘ Papa
went to the office early, and he told me to
tell you he conldn’t wait.â€
The boys thought they couldn’t wait for
Johnnie to see his father, and as Lew
Dunton, a boy whom Johnnie especially dis-
‘liked, had twenty-five cents ready, they took
him into the club and left Johimie out. He
felt sure of sympathy when he began to tell
his father about his trouble at noon, but
ereatly to his surprise, he was cut shortby a
eurt, ‘‘ That’ll do, I can’t wait.â€
““T can’t wait for you, John, said the
teacher, when he hesitated for the right
word in his geography lesson that afternoon,
and Johnnie was marked down, though he’
had studied hard and knew his Jesson.
He met Mary on his way home. She told
him the rest of the family had gone to Unicle
syron’s and he would find his supper on the
kitchen ‘table, ‘for I'd not be waitin’ for
one lone boy to ate,†said Mary, as she walk-
ed heavily away. :
This was the greatest disappointment of
all. Johnnie had counted on the ride to
Uncle Byron’s for weeks. Ile ate a little sup-
per, and lay down on the sofa in the parlor.
The tears trickled down his face in the dark.
“I guess I’m getting that lesson papa meant,â€
he said, with a little sob, and then he must
have dropped asleep, for when he opened his
eyes the lamp was lighted, and he looked up
into his mamma’s face. She sat down onthe
edge of the sofa by him.
“Well, Johnny, do you like * couldn’t
waite?â€
** No, ma’am,†said Johnnie, emphatically
sitting up straight and punching the sofa
pillow with a stout little fist. ‘* I think it’s
just mean when — when other folks do it !â€
Mrs. Waite laughed. ‘‘There are four
puppies out at Uncle Byron’s, Johnnie,†she
said, ‘‘and I happen to know that if you
don’t use those dreadful words, and if you
do wait for two weeks, papa means to take
you out to see them, and if you break your-
self entirely of this bad habit you are to
have one of those puppies for your own.â€
Johnnie put his arnis around his mother’s
neck and kissed her.
as cane
«© And Vl help you all I can,†said his
mother, kissing him back. John ran out te
the front gate, and meeting his father, slip-
ped his hand into the bigger one held out to
him and_said, ** That dog’s mine, sir.â€
“When you’ve gained the victory, young
man,†Jaughed his father.
And Johnnie did win the victory, and
that’s why the handsome brown spaniel is |
Victor— to commemorate Johnnie’s learning
to wait.
“Pll try just as hard
THE MOTHER-GLANCE OF GOD.
“OP. ROE. E
NLY God can give to the whole of his
creation the all-seeing gaze that we be-—
stow upon some familiar scene. Ilis glance
around the globe is that of a mother around
her nursery, with her little children grouped
at her feet.
IN THE MORNING.
MARY KNAPP,
(ee at morning when sad Mary found
a The grave was empty and the stone away;
The sorrow of the night passed wlth the dusk,
And joy awoke with the new rising day.
Hach day isnew The weight upon the heart
May slip with darkness into Lethe’s stream,
And hope and strength come in the hours of rest,
Yo point the sun’s first beam.
And pot alone the pain andill of life—
The Jife itself may ebb at night away;
Hie may call for us in the midnight watch,
And we awake to an Eternal Day!
THE HAPPY FAMILY.
ERE iswhappy family. Butnota family
of cats, as you might imagine at a first
glance, The home of this family is not in
America but in the grassy brakes and jungles
of Central Africa. This family is composed
of a leopardess and her cubs. The father
leopard is away gathering provisions for his
family. The leopard is as cunning as a fox,
and will hide from the hunter as long as
possible, but if brought to bay its fury is
something terrible to contemplate. That
young cub on the ground just ready for a
spring, gives some idea of the stealthy char-
acter of his race,
_ THE HAPPY FAMIL
SUNDAY MORNING TALKS.
iX. THE DEAD. BOY IN THE PROPHET’S
CHAMBER.
THOMAS W. HANDFORD,
\7 HEN Elijah passed to the heavens in
« a chariot of fire, his mantle fell upen
Elisha, the son of Shaphat. The clothing
of Elisha with the mantle of Elijah was the
symbol by which it was understood that he
was to succeed Elijah as God’s prephet in
Israel. The first time Elisha is met in the
Bible story, he is found at work in his
father’s fields in Abel-meholah, a farming
district in the valley of the Jordan, Elijah
‘Was passing on one occasion from Sinai to
~ Damascus through this fertile valley, when
he saw Elisha at work; and moved of God, he
went and cast his mantle about him, which
was undoubtedly the first. intimation the
young farmer received of the great destiny
that awaited him. Ile prayed that a double
portion of the spirit of Elijah might rest upon
him, and the Bible tells us in brief, impres-
sive words, that the spirit ot Elijah did rest
upon Elisha. It would be very diffienlt to
think of two men. more widely different in
character than these two men. Elijah, was
stern, unbending and severe, the incarnate
conscience of his age; Elisha was of gentle
spirit, full of pathos, tenderness and love.
There were magnificent, heroié scenes, inthe
life of Elijah, but none in the life of Elisha.
Still there are some touching stories in the
life of.this more gentle prophet. Just as
Christ found a home and weleome in the
little cottage home of Bethany, so Elisha
founda peaceful and pleasant resting place
in the little village of Shunem. There wus
a devout woman who served the God of Is-
racl, who, with her husband, urged the
prophet to make their hause his home when-
ever In his prophet wanderings he came near.
be prophet’s chamber on ihe wall furnished
with bed and table, with stool and eandle-
stick, was sacred to his service. Many were
the peaceful hours Elisha spent in Shunem,
From the window of his chamber on the
wall Klisha could see the verdant slopes of
Mount Tabor, for Tabor was but five miles
away. But the home of Shunem could not
charm death from the threshold any more
than from the home of Lazarus and Martha
and Mary. :
The pious Shrnammite had an_ only
son—the son of ler mature age—and one
day as he was busy in his father’s fields
among the reapers the sun smote him, and
with a wild, sad cry he fled home and died.
By a strange instinct the sorrowing mother
took her dead boy into the prophet’s chamber
and laid him upon the prophet’s bed. She -
called to the boy, but he did not answer; she
kissed his cold lips but there was no response.
The balmy breeze from Mount Tabor blew in
from the open window, but it brought ne
color back to the cold, dead face. And as
Martha and Mary in later years wished for
the coming of the Christ when Lazarus was
dead, so this sad-hearted woman wished for
the coming of the mam of God. And at
last Elisha came. Entering his chamber on
the wall and closing the door, he gazed fora
‘moment upon the dead boy, who had always
been the first to welcome him and the last to
"bid him farewell. Then he prayed for power,
and stretching himself upon the child, hand
to hand, heart to heart; mouth to mouth, he ~~
breathed his very life into the child, and he
revived, and his heart began to beat, and his
eyes were filled with wondering glances, and
he lived. Little more is known of Elisha’s
nameless hostess. Tradition says this boy
was afterward a constant companion of
Elisha, and became himself in turn a
prophet, the prophet Jonah, at whose
preaching Niveveh repented and: was saved,
ITowever this may be we know not. “But the
-patheticstory of the dead boy, the sorrowing,
broken-hearted mother and the praying
prophet will make the lowly chamber of
Shunem a sacred place forever; for death,
and love, and prayer, make sacred the low-
liest scenes.
THREE WISE WORDS.
ees IT reading and conversation may
- furnish us with many ideas of men and
things, yet ourown meditation must form’
judgment.
Love is not altogether a delirium, yet it’
has many points in common therewith. I
call it cither a discerning of the infinite in
the finite, or the ideal made real.
Truth is the object of our understandings
as good is of our will; and the understand.
ing can no moré be lighted with a lie than
the will can choose an apparent evil.
_—
The greatest thoughts are wronged, if not
linked to beauty, and they win their way
most surely into the soul when arranged in
this, their natural attire.
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PICKING THE APPLES
LAURA BE. RICHARDS.
PPLES to pick! Apples to pick!
Come with a basket, and come with a stick.
Rustle the trees and shake them down,
And let every boy take care of his crown,
There you go, Tommy! Up with you, Jim!
Craw] to the end of that crooked limb.
Carefully pick the fairest and best;
Now for a shake, and down come the rest.
Thump! plump! down they come raining!
Shake away! shake, till not onc is remaining.
Hopping off here, and popping olf there,
Applies and apples are everywhere.
Golden russets, with sunburnt cheek,
Fat, ruddy Baldwins, joily and sleek;
Pippins, not much when they mect your eyes,
But wait till you see them in tarts and pies!
Where are the Pumpkin Sweets? ob, here!
Where are the Northern Spys? oh there!
And there are the Nodheads, and here are the Snows,
Aud yonder’s the Porter, best apple that grows,
Sort them and pile them, the red and the brown— -
What! are the Blue Pearmains not down?
They're blushing purple with rage. I see,
And the Oxfords arc black with Jealousy.
Beautiful Bellefieurs, ycllow as gold,
Think not we're leaving you out in the cold;
And dear, fat Greenings, so prime to bake,
Tl! eat one of you now for true love's sake.
Oh! bright is the autumn sun o’erhead,
And bright are the piles of gold and red!
And rosy and bright as the apples themselves
Are Jim, Tom and Harry, as merry us elves.â€
It’s plenty of work and plenty of play,
And plenty of apples the livelong day.
Oh, the time and the place for boys, I maintain,
Ts the month of October, in the good State of Maine.
A WORD YO THE BOYS.
FRANCES E, WILLARD,
HAVE made up my mind to speak to you’
about a little matter, for I believe you
want to do what is fair. Now, when the girls
study the same books you do, and often go
far ahead of you at school; when so many of
them study stenography, telegraphing, and
_ether kinds of business, become teachers,
doctors, missionaries, etc., as they are doing
more and more each year, what right have
you to sit about, as lazy as a cat, and let
these girls work and tug till they are tired ont,
for your comfort, and to do things which
ou should attend to yourself? Don’t they
ike to run and play as well as you do? Don’t
_. T know once on a time.
they need the exercise and fun that you get
in the great, splendid out-doors, just as
much? Are you not physically stronger and
better able to bear the heat.of the kitchen,
and the breathed over-and-over air of in-the
house, than they? Ought you not, then, in
your big, hearty, good-natured fashion, to
‘sive them a lift,†every time, when the
work presses on them, and to take care of
your own room, if they do of theirs? It
seems to me thisis just ‘a fair divide.â€
Let me tell you about three splendid boys
Their father died,
and their dear mother was left to bring them
up and to earn the money with which to do
it. So these young fellows set in to help
her. By taking a few boarders, doing the
work herself and practicing economy, this
blessed women kept out of debt, and gave
each of her sons a thorough college cduca-
tion. But if they hadn’t worked like beay-
ers to help her, she never could haye done
it. Iler eldest boy—only fourteen—treated
his mother as if she was the girl he levad
best. IIe took the heavy jobs af hous.
work off her hands, put on his big apron»
and went to work with a will; washed
the potatoes, pounded the clothes, ground
the coffee, waited on table—did any-
thitg and everything that he could coax her
to let him do, and the two younger ones fol-
lowed his example right along. “Those boys
never wasted their mother’s money on to-
baeco, beer, or ecards. They kept at work,
and found any amount of pleasure in ib.
They were happy, jolly boys. full too, of fun,
and everybody not only liked, but respected
and admired them; and 1 don’t know any
better fortune for a boy than to be praised
by good girls, nor anything boys like better.
They all married noble and true women; and
to-day one of these boys is president of a
college, goes to Europe every year, almost,
and isin demand for every good work; an-
other lives is one of the most elegant houses
in Evanston, and is my very “ beloved phy-
sician;†while the third is a well-to-do
wholesale grocer in Pueblo, Cal., and a mem-~
ber of the city council.
I tell you, boys who are good to their
mother and to their sisters in the house,
always grow up to be nice men. Now I’m
not blaming you, boys, nor anybody else.
I know that any number of you are good
and generous as you can be, and I know, |
too, that you haven’t been taught to think ~
about these things.
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PICKING THE APPLES.
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4
SCENE IN SAMOA.
ERE is a scene in Samoa in the South
Sea Islands, and here are two young
American artists who have been sent ouf to
sketch the country. ‘There are some very
beautiful spots in that far away region of the
world. The mountains and the sea, and the
lofty palms that spread their branches high
overhead. But the people are rude and un-
eouth, and these young men are weary of
their journey and.long for home. They be-
guile the time often by singing-** There’s no
pl: ice like home,†and they are both of the
opinion that America is not only a land of
F. reedom, but that its mountains and rivers,
its prairies and hills make it as beautiful as
any land on earth.
TO THE MEMORY OF PETER COOPER.
JOAQUIN MILLER.
[Lowe and glory forever more
To this great man gone to rest;
Peace on the dim Plutonian shore—
Rest in the land of the blest.
Treckon him greater than any man
That ever drew sword in war—
Greater, indeed, than King or Kahn,
Nobler, and better by far.
Ave, und wisest, too, in this whole wide Jand,
Of hoarding till bent and gray—
For all you can hold-in your cold, dead hand
Ts what you have given away.
So return to wander the stars, or to rest, -
Forever hushed and dumb—
Tle gave his best, and gave with a zest,
Give him the best to come,
WINFRED'S VISIT TO THE MOON.
JULIA D. PECK.
a RED was playing dominoes with
his sister Kate when the clock struck
eight.
** Winfred,†said his mother.
The little boy knew very well what that
meant, but he didn’t understand why he
should have to go to bed at eight o'clock
every night, when he wasn’t. sleepy—not at
all: and besides Katic, who was two years
older, could sit up half an hour longer. It
the great trial of his life.
ey Please, mamma, can’t I play one more
game?†he asked, though he knew very well
it wasn’t of the slightest use,
“Your five’ minutes of grace is almost
gone, Winfred,†was his mother’s answer.
Was
36 there was nothing left for him to do
but to hurry off to. bed; and when he had
asked God to keep him safely through the
night, and his mamma had kissed him and
gone away with the lamp he could oe,
keep from crying. :
The moon shone brightly into his- room,
and as he Jay looking atit his heart was very
rebellious.
“
have to go to bed at all,†he said to himself.
T just w ‘ish I was there, I’m not sleepy a
single speck, and I don’ t s’pose [ can go to
sleep before midnight.†S
Tt wasn’t two minutes after when he heard
a whisper—or thought he did—and when he
looked at the window there sat the queerest
little man with a tall pointed red cap on his
~ head, and a round, jolly face.
Se
Ife was beckoning to Winfred, and the
little boy jumped out of bed in a twinkling,
and into hisclothes, aud went to the window
‘and what do you think he saw?
As true as you live he saw a rope ladder—
at least he says he did—reaching way up to
the moon, and the queer little man was run-
ning up the rounds, beckoning for Winfred
to follow.
You woulé-not think he would do it—now
would you? for to tell the truth, he wasasad
coward, though L would not have him know
F told you, so don’t lisp it. But he did—he
truly did hurry up the tadder, and he thought
-it was the greatest fun he eyer had.
Tt was a long way, but Winfred never
thought of being tired. When he was part
way up he stopped a moment and looked
down, Such a view he never Saw before.
Tfis father’s house looked like a little Toy
house, and the trees seemed no taller than.
his finger. He wanted to look longer, but
his queer guide touched him on the shoul-
der, ne again he followed on.
the moon at last, and climbed np through a
hole, and the man pniled the ladder up
after him, and shut down the trap-door.
Tt was summer on the earth, but it seemed
to be winter there, for the ground was
covered with something that looked like
snow, only it was pink instead of white. A
small sleigh was near, to which four rein-
deers were harnessed, and Winfred and the
man got in, aud were carried swiftly away.
They. passed palaces which glistened like
gold, and trees covered with pink j ice spark-
ling brightly in the sun.
At last they stopped before a grand palace,
They reached ©
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A SCENE IN SAMOA.
‘
and Winfred followed the man inside. A
beautiful little woman met them at the door
and taking Winfred’s hand she kissed him,
and led him over the house, showing him all
the strange and beautiful things it contained.
He had never seen or dreamed of all the
strange and beautiful things he saw. There
was almost everything that anyone could de.
sire, but singularly enough there was not a-
bed in all the palace.
Yhen he heard the sweetest music and the
lady opened a glass door and led him into a
garden, where a great many children were
playing and dancing among the flowers.
Fountains and statues were all about, and
many large trees. Some of them were cov-
ered with luscicus fruit, while from others
hung many kinds of candy. The merry
children picked the fruit and candy, and ate
and gaye to Winfred. until be could eat no
I hear he played and danced with
them, and thought he was perfectly happy,
though he could not understand a word they
said. :
Presently he heard a voice—it sounded
miles away—calling his name. He knew
at once it was his mother’s voice and a great
longing to see her came over him. He slipped
through a gate, and found the pink snow
covered the ground everywhere outside the
garden.
The reindeer and sleigh still waited, and
_the little boy jumped into the sleigh, and was
swiftly carried back over the road he had
come.
He reached, in a short time, the place from
which he started. There was the trap-door,
and the rope ladder beside it.
He heard the voice still calling him, and
he tried with all his small strength to open
the door—when suddenly he felt it sinking
down under him.
He screatned, and lo! he found himself
lying upon the floor in his little room and
his mother was bending over him.
“You had bad dreams, dear,’ she was
saying, “and you rolled out of bed. I
think it must be because you ate an apple
after supper.†Don’t do it again.â€
«1 fell down from the moon,†said Win-
fred, rubbing his eyes.
Then he was sound asleep again, but the
next morning he told them all about his
strange visit. :
“It was just beautiful,†he said. “You
needn’t laugh, for I don’t believe *twas a.
More,
dream, and anyway I wish I lived there, for Seca
the little boys don’t have to go to bed at all, oe
>cause there wasn’t any bed in the whole big
house—not one. But I -guess, maybe, I
should want to have you live there, too,
mamma.†“i
OVER THE PURPLE SEAS.
LOUISE PHILLIPS. : 2 i
VER the purple ssas rare
A fragrant wand’ring breeze ; s
Comes from some sunny island of the South;
Where tall and vernal pine
_ Giyes outa breath like wine,
And stoops to kiss the creeper’s scarlet mouth:
=e
Across the limpid Jakes
The light in blushes breaks
From roseate sky with white clouds mottled o’er;
While billows rise and fall
Against the breaker’s wall,
Or greet with coy caress the circling shore.
Afar in musky wood,
Where stately trees have stood,
And kept their watch and ward for ages past,
Dead Jeayes of burnished brown
Reluctantly drop down,
As if they knew on earth they’d looked their last,
A dreamy, golden haze - y ae
Broods over all the days, *o.
And softens outlines that will soon be bleak; :
While in our breasts will wake’
A thirst we cannot slake
For a vague something that we vainly seek.
A DAY’S SHOPPING IN THE CITY. —-_-. *
ANNY EGGLESTON had come to =
spenad few days with her uncle and
aunt in New York. She was not enough of
a country girl to appear awkward in her
manners, but she was enough of a girl to be
"rejoiced when Cousin Eva proposed a day’s
shopping in the city. Whata day they had!:
Fanny thought New York must be the most
wonderful place in the world. Her Cousin
George met them at noon and took the two —
young ladies to lunch, and then begged to be — Baas
excused, and as he went away buttoning up ee:
his coat he said he couldn’t see for the life . a
of him what pleasure girls could find in
shopping. Perhaps some of George’s pleas-
ures would be as hard for the girls to under-
stand. - Anyway Fanny and Kya had a glor-
ious day of shopping.
CLOUD CURTAINS.
(CLOUDS are curtains which God, with
motherly care, hangs over the bed of
Ilis children to give His beloved sleep.
TO-MORROW.
NORA PERRY.
O-MORROW, and to morrow,
Oh, fair and far away
What treasurers lie, when hope is high,
Along your shining way.
What promises fulfilled,
What better deeds to do
Than ever yet, are softly set
Beneath your skies of blue.
To-morrow, and fo-morrow, ~
Oh, sweet and faraway »
Still evermore lead on before
Along your shining way.
Still evermore lift up your eyes
Above what we have won,
To higher needs and finer deeds
That we have left.undone.
SUNDAY MORNING TALKS.
X.. MIRIAM THE SISTER OF MOSES,
€ TILOMAS W. HANDIPORD,
T is not often that three illustrious peo-
- ple are born in the same house, and yet
to two pious Jewish parents of the tribe of
Levi, there were born in the old Mgyptian
\
days, two-sons and a daughter, who Lure ,
three of the greatest names known to tho
_Hebrew race. ~First of all, Moses, the great
Laweiver and Leader of Isract’s wandering
tribes, whose life from his eradle on the Nile
to his unknown grave amid the solitudes of
gray Beth-Peor’s Mountains was full of sae-
red romance 3; next exme Aaron, the great
Hich Priest of the desert wanderings, whose
burial at Mount Ilor was in many respects ¢
‘more sublime scene than the departure of
Moses ; and last of the three, came Miriam—
the Poet, the Prophetess of Israel, who led
forth in grand procession with timbrels and
dances, the loud thanksgiving of a redeemed
people. . Happy the home that had such sons
and such a daughter. Arid yet -what sad-
ness there was in the early days. The terri-
ble deeree went forth that every son born of
Hebrew parents should be drowned, and the
sluggish Nile became the remorseless grave
of thousands of fair Hebrew -bovs. But a
mother’s love is often more than a match for
atyrant’s plans, and the wife of Amrain, the
Levite, was moved to make a bulrush cradle
for her boy, and as she floated her priceless ~
-argo in its frail beat on the waters, we may
be sure thet it was with tears and prayers that
some good fortune might befall her child.
mraryelous changes take place.
ae
And here we first meet Miriam, the sister of
the Sacred Vigil, half-hidden amid the tall _
reeds of the river, watching with intense
anxiety the fortunes of the frail bark that
bore her infant brother. And when Pharo-
ah’s daughter resolved to have the laughing |
infant carried to her palace home, it was.
Miriam who, with the instinct of sisterly -
love, suggested a Ilebrew nurse, and sped.
homeward to tell the joyful news and bring
the mother of the child so strangely saved, -
to be its happy nurse. Years pass by, and
The child
saved from a watery graye by Egypt’s daugh-
ter, has become the great Emancipator . of
his ensldved brethren. Safe landed on the
further shore of the Red Sea, the stately
form of Miriam is seen, leading with-tim--
brel and dance and song, the procession of.
the free. A grander war song than that has:
never trembled on mortal lips. Not to the
courage and sagacity of her heroic brother, not
to chances or the fortunes of war, but to the’.
God of Israel this great deliverance is wholly
ascribed, ‘The Lord hath triumphed elori<
ously, Ilis right hand and IJlis holy arm
have gotten him the victory. With singular
poetic foree Miriam marks the completeness
of the overthrow of the Egyptians by Tan-_
guage that accumulates in strength. ‘* They
sank. :? “they sank to the bottom like a
stone :†“they sank Tike lead in the mighty
waters 1? Well might she ery aloud, “ Whe
is a God like unto ‘thee 2?†Bor Egypt had
lords many.and godsimany, but they had all
failed. Kyery barrier erected to keep the
TWebrews in bondage had been broken down.
Every hindranee had been overcome, — he
yoice of God had shaken the palaces of Miz--~
raim’s ancient splendor, ‘Let my people
go!’ And now with a high hand and an
outstretched arm, God brought Tis people -.
forth. ‘The scene by the Red Sea shore isas
full of teaching as it is of romance. The
history of the world has been a story of mar-
yelous growth, and not a chapter of acci-~
dents. The song of these happy thousands,
“Jed by the inspired Poctess of their race, was
the first song of freedom the world had ever
heard. It was the birth.song of a new na-
tion, the loud hallelujah of a ransomed. peo-
ple that made the desert ring with its free,
wild airs of liberty. While we toss our bin-
ners of freedom in the blue heavens to-day,â€
let us not forget how this first anthem of the
ransomed Israelites ascribed to the God of
Battles the overthrow of Egyptian bondage.
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“DON’T BE DISCOURAGED.â€
Ghe Pobin’s Song.
ROBIN sits in the cherry-tree,
“Tur-rum, turr-ri, tur-ro,†says he;
“J have a secret, children dear,
Now listen, all;that you may hear.
Tur-re, tur-ri-tur-ro, tur-rum,
Soon the gentle Spring will come.
“The earth is hard, the bough is bare,
And cold and frosty blows the air,
Tur-rum, tur-ri, tur-re;
There is no flower within the bower,
No leaf upon the tree.
But when the Robin’s song you hear,
You know the lovely Spring is near.
“I’ve just arrived from countries far,
Tur-rum, tur-ri, tur-re; :
And met Spring in her golden car,
Spring.and her children three.
First came cool March, that breezy boy,
Then baby April, sweet and coy;
And maiden May, the flower-crowned elf,
Held in the arms of Spring herself.â€
The robin sits in the cherry-tree,
“Tur-rum, tur-ri, tur-ro,†says he:
He whistles loud, he whistles clear,
To tell the children Spring is near.
«“Tur-re, tur-ri, tur-ro, tur-rum,
Soon, yes, soon, the Spring will come.â€
—NELLIE M. GARABRANT.
AMONG THE FLOWERS.
PROCOPE, THE FUNNIEST GENERAL
IN THE WORLD.
HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH.
hae so long ago, there lived and fought
in Germany a mighty general, and he
was awfully funny. I think he was about
the funniest general in all the world.
He was very fat and very clever, and, like
all fat, clever people, he loved little children.
The fatter he grew, the more clever he grew,
and when he had a dozen or so of chil-
dren about his knees, he wasn’t much of a
general, as generals go—not much of a fight-
ing general, I mean.
But we must give the name and date of
this general, and so crack the historical nut-
shell, before we can set before our readers
the sweetmeat of our story. This we will do
in a single paragraph, and we shall have all
the rest of the space to tell you about the
agreeable general, and the funny things that
he did. :
Procopius, or Procope, the famous fat
general, was a Bohemian, and became com-
mander of the Hussites, who were almost an
army of giants, in 1424. He won many vic-
tories with his terrible army, and caused
the princess of Moravia, Austria and Saxony,
to sue for terms at his feet. The fame of
his great deeds and wonderful victories filled
all Europe for eleven years, when he was
killed in battle in 1434. Now, this historical
nut-shell is cracked, and we will have some
account of the funny fat man who loved the
children.
In the summer of 1432, good-natured Proe
eopius and his tall army came marching
through the high mountain-passes into Sax-
ony, and encamped in a very lovely valley on
the banks of the Saale, and invested the old
walled town of Naumburg. It was cherry-
time —a lovely time of year to lay siege to
the tough old town—and the valley was full
of cherry trees, which was calculated to make
fat Procope and the tall besiegers, who were
very fond of the good things in the world,
contented and happy. So, while a part of
the army besieged the town, the rest went
pene: and a very comfortable time they
ad.
But the Saxons who were shut up in
Naumburg were resolute and stubborn, and
refused to yield. The golden moon that
hung over the Saale on the still night when
June perfumed the vale with roses, waned,
and halved, quartered and rounded again ;
but the Saxons gave no signs of coming to
terms with the fat general. And Procopius,
_ although generally so clever and good-
natured, began, we are very, very sorry to
say, to lose his patience and his temper.
It was far past midsummer. The roses were
falling, and the cherries were rotting, and
Procope himself was getting sour. So one
morning he put on his high-heeled boots, and
seemed to be unusually out of sorts, and he
sent a terrible message to the good people of
Naumburg that, if they did not surrender
the town before the end of the week, all of
the people in it should at last be put to the
sword. :
Oh, then there was distress in Naumburg.
Yet the sturdy old Saxon lords refused to _
surrender the town. :
But at last the store of food in the town
was nearly gone, and strong walls grow weak
when the people have no bread. The women
began to be hungry, and the children to ery
for food.
What was to be done? ‘They called a
council, but the council. could do nothing.
The besiegers were strong without, and the
corn was gone within, and their lives were
forfeited if they opened the gates to the
enemy.
There came to the council an old German
schoolmaster, and when the lords and chief
men could offer nothing, he begged leave to
say a few words to them.
“Procope,†said he, bowing very low, so
that his queue stuck out like a horn behind,
‘eis very fat.â€
«That will not help our leanness,†said
the lords.
“Wat men are very clever,†said the spare
old pedagogue.
«©All the more inglorious to die at the
hands of a clever man,†said the lords.
© And clever, fat men love children,†said
the pedagogue, looking very wise.
‘‘That does not help our case,†said the
lords.
«* A man who loves.a child will not harm
the parent,†said the old pedagogue.
‘*But the Hussites do not love our chil-
dren.â€
‘Every man has a tender place in his
heart,†said the wise old pedagogue. ‘‘ Get
at that, and one is safe.â€
“But how does that apply to us?†asked
the lords.
“Listen,†said the pedagogue, looking
still more wise, and bringing the tip of one
finger over into the palm of his other hand,
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in a very knowing way. ‘‘Procope loves
children, and when they are around him, he
grows jolly and mellow, and his heart gets
warm, and his sternness all melts away like
a glacier in the spring sunshine, Send the
children of the town out of the gates to
him. ‘Tell them to cling about his knees,
and climb up into his lap, and when he be-
gins to pity them and grow fond of them,
tell them to beg mercy for us and the food-
less town of Naumburg.â€
That quiet summer afternoon the gates of
Naumburg swung open, and a long procession
ef little boys and girls issued forth, and
wended their way through the astonished
Hussites to the gay pavilion of Procopius.
We fancy we can see them now, and an old
German picture we have seen helps our fancy.
This odd picture represents the old peda-
gogue following behind witha bundle of books
under one arm and a brisk switch in the
other hand, with which latter implement he
was refreshing the memories of some of the
little boys in the rear by a wise application
in the usual way.
When Procope saw them coming he seemed
mighty pleased, and with large eyes and
puffing lips he waddled out to meet them.
The little girls seized him around his funny
legs, and hugged him tight, and the little
boys all began to say:
“0, good Procope, we’ve come to you to
protect us.â€
What could Procopiusdo? He tried to be
hard, but it was impossible. So he sat down
under a big cherry tree near by, and the
boys and girls in a few minutes were run-
ning all over him like goats over a mountain.
His heart was besieged, and a breach was
goon made in its weakest place.
He put his hand on one little boy’s hair,
and kissed another little girl, who looked so
innocent and pretty that he could not help
it. And his great arms clasped half a dozen
children at once, and his heart grew warm
and mellow, and he found that he could
resist no longer. So the clever fat general
suddenly cried out: :
“It’s ne use. I can’t see the children suf-
fer, you knew. I guess I shall have to sur-
render,â€
Then he ordered the Hussites to bring
him baskets of cherries, and he and the
children had » cherry feast, and great was
the happiness on the banks of the Saale, near
the foodless town of Naumburg.
The children returned to the city at night,
and each one’ hugged and kissed Procopius
as they parted, and said in a low, sweet voice:
‘Spare, for our sakes, the town of Naum-
burg.â€
The moon hung over the Saale in the
golden air, and in the late hours dipped _be-
hind the far mountains. The sun rose fair,
and the watchmen tooked down from the
grim walls of Naumburg on the long valley;
but Procopius and the Hussites were gone,
and a happier day never was seen in the town.
For four hundred years the Saxons have
loved to recall this delightful event of his- ,
tory, and have celebrated it by the ‘‘Kin-
‘derfest,†or ‘‘ Children’s Péte,†or, as it is
often called, ‘‘ The Cherry Feast of Naum-
burg.†This festival corresponds to our
Fourth of July, and occurs on the 28th of
July, and aright glad day it is to the chil-
dren of Saxony. And, would you see how
long the happy influence of a single good
deed may last? Why then, when you go to
Germany, drop down tothe Saale in summer
time, and eat some cherries with the children
at the Children’s Féte, in honor of the fun-
niest general in all the world.
“NOTHING TO DO.â€
OTHING to do, in this world of ours !
Where weeds spring up with fairest flowers,
Where smiles have only a fitful play,
Where hearts are breaking every day !
Nothing to do, thou Christian soul !
Wrapping thee round in thy selfish stole,
Off with the garments of sloth and sin;
Christ thy Lord hath a kingdom to win.
Nothing todo! There are prayers to lay
On the altar of incense, day by day.
There are foes to meet within and without;
There is error to conquer, strong and stout.
Nothing todo! There are minds to teach
The simplest form of Christian speech ;
There are hearts to lure with loving wile,
From the grimmest haunts of sin’s defile.
Nothing todo! There are lambs to feed, ©
The precious hope of the church’s need :
Strength to be borne to the weak and faint ;
Vigils to keep with the doubting saint.
Nothing to do! and thy Saviour said,
‘Follow thou me in the path I tread.â€
Lord, lend thy help the journey through,
Lest, faint, we cry, ‘‘So much to do.â€
THE VALUE OF KINDNESS,
IND words, kind looks, kind acts and
warm hand-shakes,—these are means
of grace when men in trouble are fighting
their unseen battles.
THE POSTMAN WITH HIS CHRISTMAS TREASURES.
The Little Queen,
APY tasks are over for the day,
‘ Over at last and I am free!
yi p|No girl in all the land, they say,
fA! Has so much study, so little play
As I, the little Queen, dear me!
First came my French and then my Greek,
And then my German—that makes three !
The one to read, and the others to speak,
And two are modern, and one antique,
And I hate them all most fervently.
Then I played the harp till my fingers stung,
That tiresome adagio, minor C;
And then the piano, and then I sung;
Next the doctor came to examine my tongue,
And ordered a horrible dose for me.
Then the hour of sums, the worst of all,
Such long, long sumsin the Rule of Three;
And the dance to practise for the ball,
When I was so tired I could hardly crawl,
And Ancient and Modern History!
And once I paused and looked about
And missed my answer, for a bee
Caught in a flower-cup just without —
Was making a furious burr and rout—
Then iow my master looked at me!
“Your Majesty is much to blame
To heed such trivial things,†said he;
And all my ladies said the same.
I felt my cheeks grow hot with shame,
So solemnly they looked at me.
They tell me that throughout the land
The other children envy me,
Because I am so rich and grand:
I cannot, cannot understand
Why people judge so foolishly.
The other children shout and run
And play together full of glee ;
I never have a bit of fun,
There are no games for only one—
Nobody ever plays with me!
The other children go up-stairs
After their merry nursery-tea,
Their mothers brush and comb their nairs,
And tuck them in, and hear their prayers—
How pleasant all those things must be!
My ladies duly bend and wait
And serve me soft on bended knee,
Put off and on my robes of state,
And bathe and brush and curl and plait,
But no one ever kisses me !
I am the Queen, and I am told
That the whole land belongs to me,
Mine to up-bear and rule and hold,
And I am only twelve years old,
Only a little girl, you see!
If I might change for a few days,
And just a common child could be
To live in common happy ways
With easy tasks and easy plays
And no one by to chide or see-
I might perhaps come back and class
Myself as happiest—it might be - f
But that will never come to pass,
I am the little Queen, alas !
And there is no escape for me!
SusAN COOLIDGE, in Wide Awake.
A FIGHT WITH A BEAR.
TELL you we had a pretty exciting time
—I mean Tom Jones and myself—in
the great forest up Rock Run. Tom and I
started out to look for bear. When we
arrived on the ground we encamped for the
night in an old log hut that had been used
by lumbermen.
not very strong, but we fastened it the best
way we could, and laid down tosleep, wrapped
in buffalo robes. About 1 o’clock in the
morning I was awakened by acrashing noise,
and almost instantly a big bear stood beside
me. It had broken down the door and
was in search of forage. Tom was awfully
skeered and tried to play *possum. But I
knew that wouldn’t do, so I jist riz up, seized
my rifle, and banged away at the bear. Ionly
I
wounded it in the neck, and with a howl of
pain it dashed out of the shanty and disap-
peared in a hemlock thicket. But we got it
at last, and a red-hot time we had.
The next morning, after a hasty break-
fast, we started in pursuit. We tracked it
by the blood for fully a mile, when it disap-
peared in a thicket of briars and underbrush
near the creek. I knew it was not safe to
follow too closely, for a wounded bear, if
cornered, will fight fiercely. Finding a high
stump, I stationed Tom on it with orders to
watch closely while I went around on the
other side of the thicket, about half a mile,
to drive the bear back so that Tom could
shoot it. In less than an hour I heard a
crackling of the underbrush an’ I knew that
the bear had scented me an’ was movin’. 1
kept quiet for ten minutes, when suddenly
Jones fired his gun, an’ I knew he had got
into bizness. I went to his assistance just 3s
fast as my legs could carry me, an’ I didn’t
git thar a minute toosoon. The bear caught
him an’ was tossin’ him about like a foot
ball. When he fired he was so excited that
he missed his mark, an’ the bear rushed on
him, knocked his gun out of his hand with
one paw, and seized him with the other.
I succeeded in killing it, but it took
some desperate work. The bear was dread-
fully riled, an’ I couldn’t shoot for fear of
killin’ Jones. I took a survey of the fight,
an’ seein’ the danger Jones was in, I jist
dropped my gun, drew my hunting hatchet
an’ attacked the bear. Seeing me, it ae
Jones an’ came for me, displayin’ as fine
a set of teeth as you eversaw. Istruck itin
the neck with the hatchet, but at the same
time it struck me with its paw and knocked
The door of the hut was-
me about twenty feet. I was up again in an
instant an’ ready for fight. The bear came
at me an’ we grappled. It tried to seize the
hatchet with its teeth, but failed. Then ié
caught me in its arms, an’ jist as it was
drawin’ me to its buzzum I drove the hatchet
into its heart, an’ with a deep groan it let go,
rolled over, an’ died in five minutes. y
huntin’ shirt was badly torn, an’ I was cov-
ered with blood an’ bruised about the body.
Had it not been for my tacklin’ it as I did,
Jones would have been hugged to death.
He was considerably hurt as it was, an’
“badly scared too. When he recovered wea
skinned the bear an’ dressed the carcass.
Qn getting it home that evening we found
that it weighed 215 pounds.
POPPY LAND.
if KNOW a place called Poppy Land,
i Where, in the summer’s glow,
The poppics, clad in flaming r::bea,
Go nodding to and fro.
The subtle essence thus distille:l
Pervades the very air,
And what the morrow forth may k@ ng
We never seem to care,
Ne discord mars that happy spot,
The children never cry,
But hand in hand they wander free
Beneath the cloudless sky.
The calm, blue sea just gently laps
Upon the shinin cae
And soft and low the summer winds
Breathe over Poppy Land.
Outside, the great world’s tramp and stir;
Within, the sweet repose
That soothes and rests the soul — no thorn
Lies underneath the rose.
In that fair Poppy Land of ours
There is no lasting pain,
No wound so deep it cannot heal,
No sorrow without gain.
The old men dream their happy dreasns,
The young men cease from care
For just a little while, to gain
The strength to do and dare.
Ambition never enters here,
But stays without the gate;
To do great deeds the world must be
The field to dare one’s fate.
Some time, perhaps, I shall come back
With no more wish to stay,
When I would fain forget the world,
And put the past away.
It would be sweet in Poppy Land
To lie ’mid grasses deep;
I shall not care whate’er betide,
Lulled to a dreamless sleep,
A FIGHT WITH A BEAR.—‘I Went ror Huw Wits My Hatcuet â€
SB ae
A BLIND BOY'S SONG.
HANNAH F. GOUID.
| tell me the form of the soft summer air,
That tosses so gently the curls of my hair!
It breathes on my lip, and it fans my warm cheek,
Yet gives me no answer though often I speak,
I feel it play o’er me refreshing and kind,
Yet I cannot touch it—I’m blind! Oh! I’m blind!
And music, what is it? And where does it dwell?
L sink and I mount with its eadence and swell,
While touched to my heart with its deep thrilling
strain,
. "Till pleasure—'till pleasure is turning to pain.
What brightness of hue is with music combined ?
Wilfany one tell me? I’m blind! Oh! I’m blind!
The perfumes of flowers that are hovering nigh, Bley
What are they? On what kind of wings do they \
® f
S \
Hy? Diy ee \ x
Are they not sweet angels, who come to delight W208 iN a
A poor little boy who knows nothing of sight? Y VY HAY \
The sun, moon and stars are to me undefined, \ Ni \ ‘
Oh! tell me what light is! I’m blind! Oh! Pm Ww eS
blind! :
AS
Hider SEEN
