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PI.AIT.sMOL'TH. .. : MUSKASKA.
WHERE I WOULD RATHER LIVE.
'Of all the places on tbe earth I'd rather live and
die,
'There's one a ijurer old-fashioned newt mtd
irreen trees waving high
It's not a bit like modern style. It paint la
fudeil irray;
I ta window pune are small and wry, and
t-llmblDK rows piny
At hide and Krk upon the wall.-, and ta tbe
rawmrnt wide
Where sunbeams stroke with soothing touch
two klttrni Bide by aide.
Tbe sloping roof a quiet green has gathered
with the yearn,
And at the end. piled atone on stone, a chimney
wMe appears
There1 MUtb a mossy old brick walk lead from
the unhlntred Kate
Through ruwi of pink and nilgonelte, and
plneys" rolled In state;
The lilac nod their purple plumes to apple
blimnomi pink.
And hollyhock beside the fence the early dew-
drops Irlnk
A mother hen with downy brood In scratching
by the well
In new pressed bed of whose smooth form
there's nothing left to tell
The wide phwxa'a curtained with owl Tines
whone trumpets slnir
A honeyed son to humming birds and bees on
listening wing;
How often in their fragrant shade concealed
from strife and care
I've dreamed Utopian visions In the deep old
rocking chair.
Beyond the opened door upon the old oak floor
of the hall
And scattered on the stairs are toys, rag dol
lies, top aad ball
Ah' what confusion sometimes reigns as with
their bappy play
Dear "pitty pat and tippy-toe" beguile the live
long day
There's grand disorder through the rooms, but
such a welcome cheer;
No prim, fastidious chill has Iced this genial at
mosphere You're Just as apt to find your hat and gloves or
coat and cane
On floor or chair a in the rack; and bang them
there again
Tbe table tops don't always shine, and in the
dust you'll find
Old figures littln hands have traced, to be by
love defined
There's sometimes sugar on the hoard, some
times an empty bowl;
Perhaps a fork or spoon that's lost and in the
cloth a hole
le seen a cobweb on the wall It softened
every tone
A wires to aid acoustics do each echo sweeter
sjrown
O. what delight the children find In their wee
butterfly
The lamps don't always burn, Us true, but
there's another li?ht
That mellows every shade of gloom love's
gleaming, soft and bright.
TCo ceremony stiff reprls the visitor or me.
And kindly hands will ever stop to make a "cup
o" tea"
What tho' the broom has gone astray or stitches
lose their place
The simple meals are seasoned with the
w-etest kind of grace.
"What tho' the carpet's worn to rags, or door
knot out of style
Affection glows uiu the hearth, life's lighted
with a smile
Then let me live, and let me die, if I must die at
all.
V.'here every Joy and every pain that to a mor-
bunY sweet:
love, affection warm
Where there's enough of
honest care to make
one's rest compiete;
Where summer's filled wit': , . . , ,
winter s bright and c? "qnnl bloom and
That touch each day with nTW, m,v.
existence dear:
Where nesting birds con ted sing, as through
the elm tree old '
The sun beams play with shadows sliding down
their bars of gold.
Where some one always fills my pipe and, in
the twilight glow.
Brings sown and slippers with a kiss I dearly
love to know:
M'hi-re sorrows melt within the light of sym
pathy, and care
Becomes a pastime in the hands my jewels
sweetly wear-
Bare diamonds of constancy, rich rubies flash
ing love,
Dt-ep sapphires of faith, and pearls of kindness
from above.
Yes. give me gentle peace that's proved by fleet
ing signs of strife:
The melody of "Home. Sweet Home" sung by
dear babes and wife.
O. let me live and let me die. when e'er tho time
shall come.
Within the blooming garden's realm, my quaint
old cottaire home.
George E. Itowea, in Sunday Inter Ocean.
THE U UN AAV AY.
How Aunt Hannah Sought
Found Peace.
and
"Would they put her in the asylum,"
he wondered, "if they caught her?"
Folk would surely think she was crazy.
She stopped at the stone wall to rest
and looked hack timorously at the old
faniiliarseene. Far behind her stretched
the meadow, a symphony of olive and
green in the late fall. Here and there
by a sunken bowlder stood soldierly
goldenrod, or berry bushes clothed now
in scarlet and gold. At intervals in the
Ion slope tood solitary trees, where
fluttering-, brittle leaves fell in the gen
tle chill air. In summer time she re
memliered well the haymakers in the
shade, and the jug with ginger water
she made for the men was kept there
to be cool.
She seemed, as she sat there, to re
member everything. The house was
all right, she was sure of that; the key
was under the kitchen doormat, the
fire was out in the stove and the cat
locked in the barn.
Iie held her work-hardened palm to
her side, panting a little, for it was a
pood bit of a walk across the meadow,
and she was eighty years old on her
last birthday. The cows feeding looked
homelike and pleasant.
"Good-by. critters," she said, aloud;
"many" the time I've druv ye home
an" milked ye. an I alius let ye eat by
the way. nor never hurried ye as the
boys done.
With a farewell glance she went on
again, smoothing as she walked the
scattered locks of gray hair falling un
der the pumpkin hood, and keeping her
scant black gown out of reach of briers.
Across another field, then on through a
leafy lane where the wood was hauled
in wider, there through a gap in a
stump fence, with its great, branching
arms like a petrified octopus, to the
dusty highroad.
Not a soul in sight in the coming twi
light. John, the children and the
scolding wife who made her so unhap
py, would not be home for an hour yet,
for it was a long drive to East Mills.
Down the steep hill went the brave
little figure, followed by an odd hadow
of its-If in the waning light, and by
tiny (stones that rolled so swiftly they
passed her often, ami made her look be
hind with a start to see if a pursuer
was coming.
"They'd put tne in an asylum, sure,"
she murmured wildly, as she trudged
along.
At the foot of the hill she sat down
upon an old log and waited for the
train. Across the road, guarded by a
big sign: "Iook out for the engine,"
ran two parallel irou rails, that were to
be her road when the big monster
should coine panting around the curve.
At last the dull rumble sounded, a
shrill whistle, and she hurried to the
track, waving her shawl to signal.
This, in the conductor's vernacular,
was a cross-roads station, where he
was used to watch for people waving
articles frantically. The train stopped
and this passenger was helped aboard.
He noticed she was a bright-eyed old
lady, very neat and precise.
"I low fur?" he asked.
"Hostin."
"Git there in the mornfin," he said,
standing waiting for the money, as she
opened a queer little reticule where,
wrapped in a clean cotton handker
chief, under her knitting, was her
purse with her savings of long years
the little sums Sam had sent when he
first began to prosper in the west and
some money she had earned herself by
knitting and berry picking.
At a cross-roads, as they went swiftly
on, she saw the old sorrel horse, the
rattling wagon and John with his fam
ily driving homeward. She drew back
with a little cry , fearing he might see
her and stop the train; but they went
on so fast that could not be, and the
old horse jogged into the woods, and
John never thought his old Aunt Han
nah, his charge for twenty long years,
was running away.
At lloston a kindly conductor bought
her a through ticket for Denver.
"It's a long journey for an old lady
like you, he said.
"Hut I'm peart for my age,"she said,
anxiously; "I never hed a day's sick
ness since I was a gal."
"Going all the way alone?"
"With Providence," she answered,
brightly, alert and eager to help her
self, but silent and thoughtful as the
train took her into strange landscapes,
where the miles went so swiftly it
seemed like the past years of her life
as she looked back ontheiu.
"Thy works is marvelous," she mur
mured often, sitting with her hands
folded, and few idle days had there
been in her world, where she had sat
and rested for so long.
In the day coach the people were k ind
and generous, sharing their baskets
with her and seeing that she changed
cars right and her carpet bag was safe.
She was like any of the dear old grand
mas in eastern homes, or, to grizzled
men and weary women, like the mem
ory of a dead mother as faint and far
away as the scent of wild roses in a
hillside country burying-ground. She
tended babies for tired women and
talked to the men of farming and crops,
or told tbe children Bible stories; but
never a word she said of herself, not
uuc.
On again, guided bv kindly hands
through the great, bewildering city by
the lake, and now through a yet
stranger lanrl. Tired and worn by night
in the uncomfortable seats, her brave
spirit began to fail a little. As the
wide, level plains, lonely and drear.
dawned on her sight, she sighed often
"It's a dre'ful big world," she said to
a gray-bearded old farmer near her:
"so big I feel e'enmost lost in it; but,"
hopefully, "across them deserts like
this long ago Providence sent a star to
guide them wise men of the east, an
hain't lost my faith."
But as the d ay wore on, and still the
Ions', monotonous land showed no
human habitation, no oasis of green
her eves dimmed, something like a sob
rose under the black 'kerchief on the
bowed shoulders, and the spectacles
were taken off with trembling hand
and put away carefully in the worn tin
case.
"Be ye goin' fur, mother?" said the
old farmer.
He had brought her a cupful of cof
fee at the last station, and had pointed
out on the way things he thought might
interest her.
"To Denver."
"Wal. wal; you're from New En
land, I'll be bound?"
"From Maine," she answered, and
then she grew communicative, for sh
was always a chatty old lady, and she
had possessed her soul in silence so
long, and it was a relief to tell the story
of her weary years of waiting to a kind
ly listener.
She told him all the relations she had
were two grandnephews and their fan
ilies. That twenty years ago Sam (for
she had brought them both up when
their parents died of consumption, that
takes so many of our folks) went out
west. He was always adventurous, and
for ten years she did not hear from him;
but John was different and steady, and
when he came of age she had given him
her farm, with the provision she should
always have a home, otherwise he
would have cone away too. Well, for
five years they were happy, when John
married, and his wife had grown to
think her a burden as the years went
on, and the children when they grew
big did not care for her, and she felt
she had lived too long.
"I growed so lonesome," she said, "it
seems I couldn't take up heart to live
day by day. an yit I knowed our folks
was long-lived. Ten years back, when
Sam wrote me he was doin fair, an
sent me money, 1 begun to think of
him. for he was alius generous an' kind,
an the gratefulest boy; an' so I began
to save to go to him. fnr I knotSI
could work fur my board fur a
many years to come. Fur three years
he ain't hardly wrote, but I laid that to
the wiid kentry he lived in. I said
b'ars an' Injuns don't skeer me none,
fur when I was a gal up in Aroostuk
kentry there was plenty of both, an' as
fur bufferlers, them horned cattle don't
skeer me none, fur I've been used to a
farm alius. But the lonesomeness of
these meddera has sorter upsot me, an'
made me think every day Sam was fur
ther oft than I ever calc'lated on.
"But what will you t'.o if Sam ain't in
Denver?" asked the farmer.
"I hev put my faith in Providence,"
she answered simply, and the stranger
could not mar that trust by any word
of warniug.
He gave her his address as he got off
at the Nebraska line, and told her to
send him word if she needed help.
With a warm hand clasp he parted from
her to join the phantoms in her memory
of "folks that hud b'n kind to her, God
bless 'em," and the train went rumb
ling on its way.
But many of the passengers had lis
tened to her story and were interested,
and they came to sit with her.
One pale little lad in the seat in front
turned around to look ut her now and
then and to answer her smile. He
was going to the new country for health
and wealth, poor lad, only to find eter
nal rest in the sunny land, but his last
days brightened by the reward of his
thoughtful act of kindness.
"She probably brought these boys
up, " lie thought, "and denied her life
for them. Is she to die unrewarded, I
wonder? There cannot be any good in
the world if that be."
He thought of her and took out his
poor purse; there was so little money in
it, too; every cent made a big hole in his
store; but the consciousness of a good
deed was worth something.
"I mayn't have the chance to do many
more," thought the lad, buttoning his
vorn overcoat.
He slipped off without a word at a
station and sent a telegram to Denver.
"To Samuel Blair" for he had
caught the name from her talk "Your
Annt Hannah Blair, of Maine, is on the
W. & W. train coming to jou."
It was only a straw, but a kindly
wind might blow it to the right one aft
er all.
When he was sitting there after his
message had gone on its way, she
leaned over and handed him a pep
permint drop from a package in her
pocket.
"You don't look strong, dearie," she
said; "hain't ye no folks with ye?"
"None on earth."
"We're both lone ones," she smiled.
"An' how sad it be there ain't no one to
fuss over ye an' be keerf ul of the drafts,
an' keep flannel alius on your chist; that
is good for the lungs."
"You are very kind to take an inter
est in me," he smiled; "but I am afraid
it is too late."
Another night of weary slumber in
the uncomfortable, cramped seats, and
then the plains began to be dotted with
villages, and soon appeared the strag
gling outskirts of a city, the smoke of
mills, the gleam of the Platte river, and
a network of iron rails, bright and
shining, as the train ran shrieking into
the labyrinth of its destination.
'This is Denver, aud I'll look out for
you as well as I can," the lad said to
her.
"I won't be no burden," she said,
brightly. "I have twenty dollars yet,
and that's a sight of money."
The train halted to let the eastward
bound express pass; tliere was an air
of excitement in the car, passengers
luggage and wraps, and some watching
the newcomers and the rows of strange
faces on the outward-bound train.
The door of the car slammed sudden
ly, and a big-bearded man, with eager
blue eyes, came down the aisle, look
ing sharply from right to left. He had
left Denver on the express to meet this
train. His glance fell on the -iuy black
figure.
"Why, Aunt Hannah:" he cried, with
a break in his voice.
She put out her trembling hands and
fell into the big arms, tears streaming
down the wrinkled face.
"1 knowed Providence would let me
find you, Sam," she said, brokenly, and
no one smiled when the big man sat
down beside her and with a gentle hand
wiped her tears away.
"Why, I've sent John twenty dollars
a month for five years foryon," he said,
angrily, as she told him why she ran
away, "and he said you couldn't write
for you had a stroke and was helpless,
and I've written to you often and sent
you money. It's hard for a man to call
his own brother a villain."
"We won't, Sam," she said, gently.
"We'll just forgit it. And I won't be a
burden to ye fur I kin work yit, and
fur years to come."
'Work, indeed: Don't I owe you
everything? Ami my wife has longed
for you to come. There are so few dear
old aunts in this country, they're
prized, I tell you. Why, it is as good as
a royal coat of arms to have a dear,
handsome old woman like you for a re
lation."
Then he found out who sent the tele
gram and paid the lad, who blushed
like a girl and did not want to take it.
I suppose you want a iob " said the
big man. "Well, I can give vou one.
I'm in the food commission business.
Give you something light. Lots of your
sort, poor lad, out here. All the refer
ence I want is that little act of kind
ness to Aunt Hannah. Here's the
depot, Aunt Hannah, and you won't see
the bears and Injuns and buffaloes you
were talking about, but the prettiest
and sunniest city you ever set your dear
eyes on."
He picked up the carpet-bag, faded
and old-fashioned, not a bit ashamed of
it, though it looked as if Noah might
have carried it into the ark.
They said good-by, and the last seen
of her was her happy old face beaming
from a carriage window as she rolled
away to what all knew would be a
happy home for the rest of her life.
Farm and Fireside.
Ceatenary- of Playing- Cards.
Dr. Rudolf Lothar, at Vienna, has
formed a society for the fifth centenary
of the invention of playing cards, which
occurred in 1392. A rich programme
of the festivities is already in prepara
tion, containing discussions and lectures
on the origin and development of cards
and card playing, and a goodly number
of matches in the various kinds of
games. It is not known whether Amer
ican poker is represented on the list of
matches,
Prince Ferdinand of Bulgaria has
weakness for dressing-grown and haa
o many of them that when he wants to
ihow his collection to a friend hi valet
resigns his place and goes nway to
Irown his sorrow in a gallon of kirch
wasser. Next to post cards, Mr. Gladstone
uses half-penny wrapper most exten
sively. The marked catalogues which
he returns to booksellers are always
ent in a half-penny wrapper with nec
essary directions scrawled on the mar
gins of the book lists.
One of the latest recruits to the
ranks of practical business-men is the
Earl of Ilanfurley, who has temporarily
forsaken his Irish seat, Dungannon
Park, County Tyrone, and has pur
chased a larcre tract of land in the Ir
rigation Colony, atMildura, South Aus
tralia, where he intends to start as a
fruit grower on a large scale.
The gavel wielded by the Oregon
department commander of the Grand
Army of the Republic is a gruesome
relie of the murder of Gen. Canby and
Rev. Dr. Thomas, the Modoc peace
commissioners. The gavel is of white
pine, and is made of a part of the gal
lows on which the Modoc murderers
Capt. Jack, Boston Charley, Black Jim
and Schonchin were executed.
The Literary society of Finland is
by far the most active, as it is the old
est society of folk-lore in the world.
It was established in order to
gather oral material as well as manu
scripts relating to the archwology and
linguistics of the race. The various
piecas of folk-lore now in manuscript
in the library amounts to more than
110,000 numbers.
'Chief Ya-Le-Wa-Noh" is the title
bestowed on Mrs. Harriet Maxwell Con
verse, the recently-elected chief of the
Six Nations, the name signifying "Our
Watcher." The duties of the position
include attendance upon the condo
lences and all public councils. The cer
tificate of her election announced that
she was chosen on account of gratitude
for her interest in the Six Nations, by
the affection and love of the tribes.
Arthur P. Gorman, United States
senator from Maryland, was once a
page in the senate. When but a lad he
was about to start west in quest of
fortune, when Senator Douglas said to
him: "Don't go. Stay at home and go
back to your state, and make up your
mind that you will come back right
here in this chamber as its representa
tive in the United States senate. It is
not a very hard thing to do if you once
set your mind on it."
Rubinstein's opera of "Moses,"
which is finished, will take two nights
to perform, four tableaux being pre
sented each night. The first four will
be the birth of Moses, the oppression of
the Israelites, and Pharoah; the so
journ of Moses in the wilderness and
the apparition of Jehovah in the burn
ing bush, and the departure of the
Israelites from Egypt. The second
four will be the passage of the Red sea
the giving of the Ten Commandments
the sojourn in the desert; the death of
Moses and the conquest of the Prom
ised Land.
HUMOROUS.
Smythe "I've got our monthly
psalmody." Mrs. Smythe "Our what?
Smythe "Our long meter from the gas
company.' N. l. Herald.
"What's your son Josiar doin'?"
said a neighbor to Farmer Begosh
"Wall," was the reply, "he thinks he's
diggin' bait, but he's makin' garden."
ashington Star.
Fastleigh "So old Soak has joined
the city improvement society?" Sharp
leigh "Why not? Hasn't he stayed up
at night to decorate this town for the
last ten years?" N. Y. Tribune.
"The trouble with Tompy is that
he is shallow." "Tompy? . Nonsense.
If you had ever tried to fill Tompy with
cnampagne you d nave changed your
mind about that. " N. Y. Truth.
Hicks "See those two ladies over
there. They seem to be enjoying them
selves hugely." Wicks "Yes; I won.
der which of their dear friends they
are picking to pieces." Boston Tran
script.
In the Furniture Store. Lady
"What has become of those handsome
sideboards you had when we called
last?" Salesman (bashful, yet grati
fied) "i ye shaved them off again,
miss.' Pick-Me-Up.
Bound to Rise "If 1 were only as
ambitious as this infernal necktie,
sighed Mudge, as he pulled down that
ornament for the fifth time in an hour,
"I'd be worth a million dollars this very
rn;n4A t ,j : i: T ,
minute.
luuuuapuiui oournai.
He
Anew ii. "lour arm is mis
sir," said Amy, rebukinsrly, to
placed,
young
waist,
young
.Hunger, who had encircled her
"Yes," replied the unabashed
man; "it would not have been
there if you had not been a
placed
miss. Detroit tree Press.
Employer "Glad to see you are
able to be here to-day, Tomkins." Tom
kins (sheepishly) "Yes, sir." Em
ployer "I was afraid from the way
you looked at the ball game when your
favorite nine were defeated that you
wouldn't be able to get here." N. Y
Herald.
Every Second Counts. Rivers
"You have a three-minute horse al
ready. I don't see what you want of
one that can make it in 2:40." Banks
(of the suburbs) "You don't! Why,
great Scott: Even with my three-minute
horse I miss a train four or five
times a week:' Chicago Tribune.
Then and Now. Jones (in the hon
eymoon) "I can not imagine, wifey,
what is the matter with my razor. It
has an edge on it like a saw." Mrs.'
Jones (timidly) "Oh, darling, can you
forgive me? I cut off some hooks and
eyes from an old waist with that razor,
but it wasn't real sharp then." Jones
(quietly) D dearest, you must be
carefuL You might happen to cut off
one of your pretty little fingers." Ten
years later. Jcnes (crossly) "Some
infernal idiot has been tampering with
my razor." Mrs. Jones (ioily) "It must
have been yourself then, as no one ever
touches it but yon," VDcttoit c ree Frees.
u."VI
FOR LITTLE PEOPLE.
MY ANSWER.
I stndifd my tal.I.is ovr and over, and lark-
ward and forward, too;
Bnt I eon M n't r-meni!r six t!ms nine, and I
didn't know what to do,
TU! ninter t-i tne to Uy with my doll and not
to bother my h"m.
"It yon call !r 'Fif ty-fonr" for awhile, you 11
learn it 1 y heart." tdie said.
So 1 took my faroritn. Mary Ann (tbonirh I
thought 'twas a dreadful shame
To Rtve such a lrfeoy lovely child sneh a per-
feetly horrid n'n(.
And I railed her try dsr little "Fifty-four'
hnmlml times, till I knurr
Tbe answer of feix times nine as well as tbs an
swer of two times two.
Next day E'izaWth Wignlesworth, who always
act" so trond.
Said: "Hx tim.-s nin is fifty-two," and I near.
y lnuhed aloud !
But I wished I hadn't when t arh;-r said
"Now, Dorothy, tell if von ran."
For I thought of inyUi.ll and salens alive! I
D 8 Wered " Mil ri A 11 .'"
Anna M. Pr:tt, in St. Nicholas.
WATERING THE BABY.
Tlow K7fiiillo.r Tried to Make His I.lttlr
ltrotlier (iron-
When Kcnnilxiy was alxiut three
years old he received two presents that
he liked very much. One of them was
a little brother, and the other was a
watering-pot. For a time Kenniboy
couldn't tell which he liked the Wtter,
the watering-pot or the babj-, but at
last he decided in favor of the watering
pot, because it wasn't so easil3' hurt as
baby was, and even when it was hurt.
it didn't ery; and liesides, the watering-
pot helped him with his flowers, which
the baby did not. The watering-pot
made the flowers grow, but, as far as
Kenniboy could find out when the sum
mer was over, all the baby had done
was to pluck the flowers and tear them
to pieces.
Once or twice when his little brother
had torn a pretty rose or a verena or a
pink to pieces, hennilxy felt badly
about it, and was quite willing that his
mamma should spank little Rush for
doing it; but his mamma had said no,
she couldn't dodhat, because little Kuss
was too little to know any letter, and,
of course, if he didn't mean to do
wrong she couldn't punish him
'Well, he ought to grow big and
learn better," said Kenniboy; and then
he went out into the srarlen and raked
the bed and watered the flowers again
l or some time ne tnougnt tuxiut tne
trouble he was having with his flowers,
and the more he thought about it, the
more lie made up his mind that some
thing ought to le done to keep little
Runs from tearing them up. Finally
he decided he should do, and triud
the plan.
One morning he was left alone in the
nursery with his brother for a few min
iites. Little Russ was sleeping very
peaceful in his crib when Master
Kenniboy crept to the bath-room and
filled his watering-pot with water. lie
then tiptoed back into the nursery, and
was just about to empty the water over
his little brother when his mamma
came in.
"Why, Kenniboy
he cried. "What
are you doing?"
"I'm waterwin'
tsell," he said,
with a bright little.
"lint you must
that," cried
mamma. grasping the watering-pot from
Kenniboy's hands. "You'll get him all
wet."
"Hut I want him to grow, mamma,"
said Kenniboy. "I want him to grow
big enough not to spoil my flowers, so
I'm waterwin' him."
Hut mamma wouldn't let him water
the baby any more, and Kenniboy
wanted to cry very much, but he didn't;
and when his papa came home that
night, both mamma and Kenniboy told
liim all about it: and papa said he'd
write to Father Time right away, and
have him hurry up and make little Russ
big enough to understand that he
mustn't spoil Kennibo3-'s flowers.
He must have kept his word, too,
for little Russ soon began to lengthen
out, and is now almost big enough
to have a little garden of his own. which
makes Kennilxy very happy, for he
likes other little boys to have toys and
nice things of their own. Harper's
Young People.
GEORDIE'S PLAN.
flow a Little Hoy was Cured of Making
"Faliw 31 ot ions."
"I don't like to play ball with Geordie,
pouted little Ned Damon, "because he's
all the whole time making false mo
tions."
That was very true. Papa frowned
at him, and mamma looked sad, which
was worse; but Geordie kept on with
his "false motions"' just the same.
Why, he couldn't even give Haby Nell
a bit of candy without first holding it
toward her and then snatching it away,
just as her little hand reached for it.
Don t do that, Geordie, mamma
would say at such times. "Don't you
know it is almost the same thing as
telling a lie? quite as bad, Geordie."
Hut, though Geordie was a very truth
ful little boy, and wouldn't have told a
lie for anything, he didn't seem to pay
much heed to mamma's lectures. It
was only for fun, you know.
" 'Sides. I do it 'fore I think half the
time," said he.
That was what grandma said, dear
grandma, who was always making ex
cuses for the children's naughty freaks.
''It's a real habit he's got into," she
said to Geordie's mamma. "I think he's
trying to break it off. too."
Hut mamma wasn't so sure of that.
though she hoped he was trying.
"He ought to have a good lesson,"
said she.
It was only a week after this that
Aunt Hester came visiting. She was
papa's own, oldest sister, but she was
rich, and wore glasses, not like grand
ma's, and lived in New York; and the
children felt a little bit afraid of her,
though they loved her dearly. Some
how she always seemed to know just
what each one wanted most of any
thing. Aunt Hester came before she was ex
pected this time. Geordie had gone out
to the "Keade Farm" after a basketful
of fresh eggs. It was almost tea-time
when he got back, and as he opened the
4fte he spied Baby Nell standing in the
open aitling-room window.
1 J
flimine lief?" he called. rngtiUhlfJ
pinking af egg out of his basket, andj
drawing back his arm. "Look out,now,
Nellie!"
Oh dear! that wasn't a false motion. i
The egg was Miiooth, and it sllppM out
of t'eordle's hand and flew Mralght at
the window, breaking itself upon the,
sill and spattering all around.
"Oh. oh!" screamed P.aby Nell, lcgln
ningtoery. "Oh! nh! oh!"
"Oeordie, come here!" called mamma,
sternly.
Oeordie felt ns though he would
rather run away, but he went up slow
ly to the window, banging bis head and
blushing like a eouy.
"I I didn't mean to," he said. "It
it slipped, mutiima. I why why O
mamma!" For there stood Aunt Hes
ter, looking at him through those fun
ny glasses, and her nice silk drens spat
tered over with broken egg.
Poor Oeordiel It was a pretty hard
punishment. What could he say!
"O mamma, I I'm Korrj'" he burst
forth; and then ho turned and run as
fast as he could go to the stable-loft,
eggs and all. And there he cried and
cried.
There was a very red-eyed, shame
faced little ly at the tea-table, thfit
night: but nolxsly asked any questions,
and Aunt Hester was kind as could be.
So was mamma.
"I'd most rather she'd scold me,"
thought ieordie, winking ixick a tear.
Hut perhaps if she had, he wouldn't
have found courage to tell her, with
Aunt Hester standing by.
"O mamma, I am sony; and I'm go
ing to try hard's ever I can not to do so
any more, if you'll forgive me just thin
one time, mamma, and and Aunt Hes
ter!" "I hope you will, (leordie," said
mamma.
And Aunt Hester slipped her hand in
her pocket and took out the pretty
pearl-handled, six-hladcd knife she had
been keeping for him all this time.
"I'm sure you will, (Jeordie," said she.
Youth's Companion.
WITHOUT A MOTHER.
IVliy a Small Hoy Who Sorry Tor Itrliig No
"tough.
On the curbstone up flush street tha
other day Kit a little girl of nine or ten
full in the hot sun, but so busy with a
woe-begone rag-baby that she seemed
not to mind the heat and the glare.
One arm had leen torn from poor
"baby," its head fell .over to one side,
and the sawdust ran from the poor feet
every time it was lifted about. "As tho
child sat there, trying to make "baby"
whole again with an old daniing-needla
and a bit of twine, a lwty of fourteen
halted on the walk and sneeringly said:
"That doll's bin sunstniek, and all
the doctors in town can't savu her life.'
The girl made no reply, and after a
moment the lad advanced, snatched the
doll from her hands anil flung it high
alxve his head, laughing loudly at her
efforts to prevent him.
"Is your mother dead?"' asked the
girl, as her eyes tilled with tears and
her lips quivered.
"Not as I knows on."
"Hut mine is, and she made that dolly
for me when her hands trembled so and
her eyes had so many tears in that t had
to cut the cloth for her. That's why
baby looks so bad"'
"Whew!" whistled the boy, below-his
breath, and walking into the street he
picked up the plaything, carefully dust
ed it, and, as he placed in her hands he
said:
"I rememljer now about seeing the
crape on the door, and I'm sorry I was
rough. This 'ere linin' in my cap will
make that baby a hull dress, and if you
won't say nothin' to nobody how I acted
1 11 give it to j'e."
He had it out at one pull, tossed two
coat buttons after it, and went away
saying:
"When a gal's mother is dead that
beats me, and any time that 'ere dolly
is tooken sick you can count on me to
run for the doctor or sit up night!
Good-by, Tab!" Child's Hour.
A PLEASANT VISITOR.
Some 1neful Hints Tor (ilrls to Take with
Them When Yinitinir.
We were all so sorry when she had to
go home!
She came to us a perfect stranger, ex
cept so far as one member of the family
was concerned; she left us a dear
friend of everyone in the house, from
pater-familias down to the parrot.
Pretty? Not a bit of it. To tell the
truth, for her sake, we have now an ex
tra warm corner in our affections for
all the ugly girls. She had enormous
freckles; we have rather admired
freckles ever since!
Clever? Well. no. She did not be
long to any literary circle, and she
liked story books better than "solid"
reading; ami when she went to school
I believe that she was considered "back
ward for her age." She was neither
clever, smart, nor bright, as we under
stand those terms, and was not "accom
plished" at all.
How, then, did she contrive to cap
ture our entire family, as she did, so
that there was not one dissenting voice
to the verdict "she's a real nice girl,
and we do hope that she will soon come
again?
The secret can be told in just four
words: She was vitily enlertaind.
Were games proposed to while away
an evening at home, she entered into
them with real zest not in that half
hearted, I-only-do-so-because-it-is-polite
way that guests sometimes assume.
Was she taken to an entertainment?
Perhaps she had been to finer ones, or
something that pleased her better. Hut
she did not, on that account, disappoint
our desire to give her pleasure. She
took all. the enjoyment possible out of
the occasion, and when she thanked us
there was a true ring of happiness in
her tones.
So with sight-seeing; so with intro
ductions to other friends; so with our
household, pets; in whatever direction
we sought to please her, she met us
more than half way and took care to A,
pleased.
Isn't there a useful hint or two in thia
girl's example to take along when 1M ga
visiting? Good Uoiuekeepl&g.
