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About Omaha daily bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 187?-1922 | View Entire Issue (June 26, 1904)
A Rainy Day Lesson. IRAN flattened her little nose against the window and watched every one who came up the street. When papa went to town in the morning he had promised to Wi"K something home for Jean, something round as the moon and shining, something to play with on rainy days. All the rainy afternoon she had wondered what it could be. Now, one hand of the clock pointed straight up and the other straight down. Papa would soon be coming;. Jean peeped through th window again. Some one waa coming up the walk, his happy face al most hidden under a great umbrella and in his arms a large round bundle. "Papa's coming," called Jean, as she flew to open the door. Papa picked up wee Jean and carried her on hia shoulder into the house; then she slipped down on the floor with the bundle. "These go with it." and out of his pocket papa brought a slimy new pair of scissors. "They will help to open the bundle." With the scissors Jean cut the string; then she took off the paper, and what do you sup pose it was? A new tin pan. round as the moon and shining shining so that, when papa held it up. Jean could see her own smiling face in it. Jean's' mamma brought some colored paper and Jean and her papa sat down on the floor. Papa drew the pan very clone, because mamma does not like to have little pieces of paper on the rug. Then he took the shiny new scissors and cut from the paper cats, dogs and birdies, camels and elephants even paper dolls, all dancing along together. "Now Jean shall cut something," and papa, with his pencil, made a picture of a butterfly; then Jean cut very carefully around the lines and made a picture of her butterfly. Some rainy day, when you cannot play otdoors, ask mamma for a pan and a pair of scissors; perhaps you can cut a butterfly like Jeon'a Yaa America. Fourth of July, they say. sir. Is Independence day, sir. But really I am certain that there must be some mistake; For people say, "Be quiet!" And. "I won't have such a riot!" At every teeny-weeny noise that I may chance to make. Why, when my gun exploded, (I thought it wasn't loaded) Jfy mother said, "You naughty boy, now stop that fearful noise!" And then our cannon crackers (And my! but they were whackers!) Sfade grandma say. "Oh. mercy me! you tnusa't do that, boys!" "You're much too young to handle A bomb or Roman candle," They always say when I get near to where the fireworks are; And for a little rocket I put m Bobby's pocket My father Just now set me down inside the "family Jar." The caution and the warning Begin at early morning: It's "Don't do this!" and "Don't do that!" and so, unless I may Choose my own celebration For the birthday of our nation, I don't see why I ought to call it Inde pendence day I Bt Nicholas. -A Waaaertal Ss-taer Walk. In the Pacific ocean there la a group of Islands called the New Hebrides, where there Is a spades of spider that weave a fine cloth. What do you think of that? The native place a slight framework hi some dark corner where there are known to be spiders, and tba nttle insects Imme diately take possession of the frame and dm it aa a foundation, for a web with marvelous results. One cap made in this way by spiders was over four feet ten inches long and over a foot In diameter at the base. Ch!ldlhOorlolty. Little Florence, nged S, had been spend ing the afternoon with a neighbor who had Just lost a near relative, and who was working very hard to get some mourning gowns made. Florence had been very good and asked no questions, but when sho returned home her inquisitiveness asserted itself. Her mother explained as clearly as she could, and for a few moments Florence Bat In deep silence. Then: "Are all her gowns going to be black, mother?" "Yea, dear." "And is she going to wear black night gowns V "No, dear." "Well, doesn't she feci Just aa bad In the night as she does in the day?" "My Ma, She Knows." My pa, he scolds me Jes becus. He says I'm gettln' "tough:" lie says my face is never clean, Mj' hands are always rough; I'm not behavtn' like I should. An' goin' wrong, I s'pose. But ma. she takes an' pats my hanP An' smiles, becus she knows. My pa hnln't pot no use for boys, He wants 'em always men; I wonder If he's clean forgot The hoy ho must a' been; Fer ma, sho says they're all alike, 'Bout face an' hands an clothes. An' says I'll learn to be a man; An' ma, I guess she knows! My pa, he says I ain't no good At doln' anything; I'd rather fool away the time An' whistle, play, an' Flng; But ma. shn smiles an' says I'm young An' then she up an' goes And kisses me an' shows me howl For ma, you bet, she knows! My pa, he says I'll never be A business man like him. Becuz I hain't got any "drive, An" "get-up," "pluck" and "vim;" But ma. she says, ho solemn like, A man's a boy that crows. An' boys must have their playln' spell; And ma's a trump, and knows! My pa. he shakes his head an' sighs An' says he doesn't seo Where I got all my careless ways. That seem Jes' born In me: An' ma, she laughs, an' laughs, an laughs, Till pa's face crimson grows. An' then she says, " "Tla very queer," But somehow, ma, she knows! My ma, she knows 'most everything 'Bout boys and what they like. Che's never scoldin' 'bout the muss I make with kites and bike; She says she wants me to be good An' conquer all my foes. An' you Jes bet I'm goln' to be, 'Cua my sweet ma, shn knows! Detroit Journal. Ned's Cute ntrrrl. Ned's uncle brought him a little gray squirrel one day. It vas a tiny thin and so young as to be quite tame. Indeed, it reminded Ned of a kitten, its fur was so soft and it was so affectionate and gentle. Ned got a cage for him. with a wheel at one end. and the minute the squirrel en tered the cage it ran Into the wheel and hud a tine time turning It. Ned named his pet "Bushy" on account of Its beautiful bushy tan. One day Bushy escaped from his cage, ran out of the honsa and up a tree. Ned was much distressed. He stood under the tree and called and coaxed, but Bushy, like a spoiled child, would not come down, although Ned could see his bright eyes peering down from one of the highest branches of the tree At length the little boy ran Into the house and found some nuts, of which Busby was particularly fond. These he left under the tree where the squirrel could find them. Then Ned himself hid nearby and waited. When Bushy thought everything was quiet he stole down to eat the nuts, and then Ned succeeded in catching him and putting him back into hi cage. But the most interesting thing Bushy did was to turn the wheel, and he dearly liked to do it- Ned taught him to do it when ever he asked him to. The squirrel got so that even when he was eating a nut he would drop it when Ned said, "Bushy, spin!" and rush into the wheel, turning it for dear life, so that you could hardly sea the wheel, it went bo fast. Bumetlmea Bushy would do this a dozen times in an afternoon at Ned's request, but the saucy squbrel would mind no one except his little master. The other children tried to coax and would also cry, "Bushy, spin!" or "Bushy, eat .nuts!" but Bushy would pretend not to hear, until Ned would speak, and then the little squirrel's hearing immediately Im proved. Bushy used to be allowed to roam about the house when all the doors and windows were shut. Then little things about the house seemed to disappear. Ned's mother used to worry about articles getting lost, until one day she spied Bushy carrying a skein of Bilk Into his cage. Ned overhauled the nest after that, and you would have laughed to see what was in it. There was a piece of embroidery, Ave ekeins of black, red ajid yellow silk, a dozen skeins of linen and cotton thread, two handkerchiefs, a dbth towel, scraps of silk, mohair and gingham, a lot of artifi cial flowers, to say nothing of several pieces of ribbon, a needlebook and a pin cushion. How they laughed when they saw all theso things in Bushy's nest, and poor Bushy, he did not enjoy having his nice bed destroyed, because be had to make It all over again out of ordinary cotton, which was not half ho nice. Cnptared by an Eagle. Fred and his sister Carry crosfed the wood every day on their way to and from school. One afternoon Ihey heard a stir ring commotion near an old sycamore tree, so old that it lad not borne a branch since the children's papa was a boy. "Eagles!" cried Fred, but Carry, having caught sight first of giant wings quivering overhead, was half through' the wood by the time Fred brought his gase from the treetop, and she was stilt running when Fred at last caught up to her and whis pered: "Silly you, didn't father tell you that eagles don't carry off children? They take only the young of wild beasts, and some times the barnyard people; never children, except in story books." "They ought to know, Fred," answered the boy's sister. "But who ever would have thought of those great birds coming to live In a little wood like this?" "That old tree has always been a favorite with eagles," said Fred. "I heard father tell Captain Jamison so. It Is because It Is so high nearly eighty feet, and there Is no foliage to bother the birds when they get In and out of the nest. How I'd like to see it from, the inside! If there were only a few branches to help a boy climb up!" "Oh, Fred, I'm glad there are none. Mother would be so frightened." "I call that mean. Just like a girl to not want me to have any fun. There, I didn't mean It. Sissy; don't cry. But I must sea the nest if I can. Just wait.' The old sycamore stood like a sentinel at the entrance to the wood, keeping silent watch now in its dying day as It had dona for years and years when It flourished In thick foliage. Its top seemed to touch the sky, and, although not a hlnlo branch was left on tho aged bolo, ufter many dis couraging tumbles Fred tuuaged tu teach the highest part. The birds were away from home and Fred knew be had better make the most of hia time there before their return. He did not care to think us his sister did, that the eagles would harm him, yet he had no desire to measure his power with that of the strongest of birds, lie knew it was not polite of him. to Bay the least, to pry Into their home during their absence. Still It was a friendly ralL What a splendid place fur a day's report! If only the other boys were there! The nest seemed like a cave to him; It was deeper than he was tall and so broad he could stretch himself at full length In It. What a soft pillow the old turf makes! Fred thinks he could stay there for hours. But then he heard a distressed cry, "Kak! Kak! Kak!" as an eagle, with drooping head and neck outstretched, fanned the air with flapping wings till Fred felt the air must be frozen. Surety his father had been right, yet he began to doubt that eagles did not hurt children, especially when he felt claws strong and sharp upon him, and then when he knew he waa being borne aloft. Higher and still higher ha was carried and all the while In dreadful fear of what was going to happen to him. He wondered If he would ever see his koine again and wept to think of his chair empty at the table that evening. Then he lost his breath ami could not see or think any more. Ho felt that the great bird had loosened its hold, had let him go and he was dropping, dropping down to where?. "What If I should fall In the sea," thought Fred, "or be dashed against huge rocks! Oh, will I ever get home to mother? Ah, there Is a beautiful white cloud. If I could only fall on that. Heigh-ho, what fun to sail on a cloud. But you are going the wrong way, Mistress Cloud; really, we aro going the wrong way. I want to get bark to Mulberry Hill. To the west, to Mulberry Hill, I say. I want so much to get back in time for dinner." Now, every one knows that a cloud can not change Its course Just because a little boy commands It. Much to Fred's distress of mind his cloud went sailing on with him to the east Sailed through clouds of blue and pink and yellow, and once carlred him through a rainbow. Fred rather liked the exciting escapes from the winds at war and the chase with other clouds, but the dreadful uncertainty of getting borne saddened him and kept him from enjoying the splendors through which he passed. His cloud drifted lower and lower till he thought perhaps he might be let down gently after all. But Just when be thought they were getting down to earth he could feel the warm rays of the sua drawing them up again, and ha was half afraid he would be burned up by the sun. Looking over the edge of his cloud Fred saw other clouds gray and dark and he felt his own gruw smaller aud smaller. Now, If he could only reach that dark cloud over the church steeple there. He has reached the darkest cloud of ail, but it is whirling on snd on like a storm, but back to the east "back to Mulberry Hill," shouts Fred, "and. oh, do get me there In time for dinner! It was very lucky for Fred that he caught that gray-black cloud, for it con tained the April shower for Mulberry Hill, and it rained him right down on hia own doorstep. And you may be sure he climbed that old sycamore no more. Fred and Carrie do not even cross the wood now, but walk around by the rail fence and over Farmer Johnson's field to the school house. Philadelphia Ledger.