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Stories by Our Little Folks
(Prize.)
Edith's Lesion.
Br I.nor MJor, Age 1J, Fullerton, Neb.
Once there was a little girl whose
tiame was Edith. Her parents were
wealthy ami lived in a large house
in Boston. Edith was very fond of
the country and spent her summers
there. When Edith was 6 years old
she again went to the country. One
day she went out for a walk through
the woods by heself and her par
ents told Tier not to go far. Edith
was so delighted with the beautiful
scenery that she forgot not to go
far. She kept on gojng until she
sot lost and did not know which
direction .to go. Finally she came
upon a man in the woods chapping
wood. He asked where she wa
going. She told him she wanted to
go home, but had got lost in the
ooris. She told him where she
lived and he said" he weuld try' to
find it. He started out the opposite
direction and took her to the camp
where the Gypsies were and left
her there and she had to endure
their cruel treatment for about a
week. Then her father, who was
anxious of her, came one day and
found her here and took her home.
She hacThad a very good lesson and
never ran off again.
(Honorable Mention.)
Lambs at Gladys Home.
OJlucly Swanoon, Lyuns, Neb.. Age t
years. )
Dear Busy Bees: As I saw ray
brother's letter in print I will write
to you. I am in the fifth grade. My
teacher's name in Anne Ruddy. I
live one and one-half miles from
school. I will tfy and tell you
about our sheep. Papa bought four
sheep We had thein quite awhile,
when one morning we found a little
lamb. It had a black face and four
black legs. In about a week we
got another. Then two more. So
we have four lambs now. Their
names are Nelly, Mary, Frankie and
Helene. Frankie is mine, I have
lots of fun with him and he will eat
out of my hand.
Good-by, Busy Bees.
doe-ij sleep. He is
as his mother.
the same color
i
it
it
8
5
A New Member.
By Evelyn Shoemaker, Agt; 11. Grtind
Inland, Neb.
Dear Busy Bees: This is the first
letter I have written to you. 1 have
a little sister 5 years old. I have
not gone to school for a whole
week, for I have a very sore leg. I
probably can't go all next week
either.
I have a story, but it isn't true.
Here it is:
Lois got sick and the doctor
came. He took her pulse, asked a
few questions, then said: "What do
you dislike?"
Lois replied, "I don't like castor
oil. bad medicine, oysters, apricots,
bread and milk, and most of all I
dislike to go to school!"
The doctor went in the other
room with Lois' mother. He left
some castor oil, bad medicine,
oysters, apricots, and said for her
to eat pjenty of them and also
bread and milk.
Lois soon got better and was
glad to get to school again, for she
didn't like the medicine. You see
she really wasn't sick at all but
didn't like to go to school.
A French Chilli's Story.
BX-Mfl rgrirt1! Abbott. Ape 9. Genoa, Neb.
My Book and Studies.
Cecilia Grady. Aga 11, Schuyler, Neil.
I am writing my second letter. 1
was very glad to see my other letter
in print, and I received the two let
ters from Busy Bees, f study arith
metic, English, physiology, history,
geography and writing. 1 am in the
seventh grade. Of all my studies 1
like history the best, but I like all
the rest, too. I like to read books
very well. We have a large book
case 'of books at school. I have read
them all. Some of my books are
"Black Beauty," Grimm's -'Fairy
Tales." "Tell It Again Stories,"
"Daddy's Girl," and "Bad Little
Hannah." I will close for this time.
Hcping more Busy Bees will write
to nie.
How to Draw a Donkey
My Pet Dog.
By Lury Miller, Age 10, .Stanton, Neb.
Dear Busy Bees: I have not writ
ten before, and I wish to join your
hive very much. I am in the fourth
grade and 1 like my teacher very
much. I have a nice story to tell
the rest of the Bees. It was a mud
dy day when" our dog Fido got into
a fight. You can imagine how he
looked; he surely was'a terrible
sight. I had a notion to scrub him,
but my sister said that he would suf
fer more than if I wouldn't do it.
He had quite a sore on the side of
his head. 1 sure felt sorry for him,
but it is healed up quite well now.
Well, I will have to close.
Timothy.
By Floyd Bennett. Harrison Street,
South Side.
Dear Busy Bees: I will tell you
about Timothy. Tim was a nick
name the boys gave him. Tim was
a boy who always liked to be wild
an Indian. One day in vaca-
like
tion he and another boy were play-
ing Indian when, with their bows
and arrows, they shot at a hole in
a big tree. They went over to it
and looking in saw they had killed
a harmless mother squirrel. Then,
like all rude boys, went away think
ing it fine sport. But they were
paid for this. Tim, while running
after his arrow, stumbled and fell.
Now the other boy was running, too,
so when Tim fell he could not stop
so he fell on top of Tim. They
both got up with a bloody nose.
They ran home and the next day
went to see if the squirrel was dead.
When they reached there they found
her. dead body stretched out over
her babies. Thev buried her and
took her babies home to a pet pair
Surely, any child would like to
add an amiable donkey to his own
private zoo.
Well, then, why not draw or
tract a donkey for yourself? Look
hard at this drawing, put it away
and see if you cannot draw the
donkey from memory. Or, run your
pencil over the black lines, to feel
how to make the curves; then make
your freehand drawing on another
p.'.per.
If you like you may take this
drawing as the pattern for a wooden
toy. Paste it on thin wood and cut
it out with a knife or scroll saw,
cutting on the outer edge of the
black line, for the real shape of the
donkey is shown by the inner edge
oi the line. .
If you draw a square ot any sie
adding the diagonals and diameters,
Lovely Sweetpea uiggles
Blushes and Is Kissed
by Sweet William
s,.' 1 Being of a lender cons
J'' hue a crotchety appetiti
I ' is "iy fo id is prepare
Yfif i:'-t to my li kill K I will
of squirrels Tim had. There they
were raised, but Tim could not help
thinking of their poor mother who
was dead.
' A Sad Story.
Horace Sawyer, age 12, 410 Seventh v-,
Shenandoah, la.
Dear Busy Bees:
This is the first letter I have ever
written you.
When I was in the hospital there
was a poor little boy there who had
tuberculosis of the bone,' and his
mother would not come to see him
hardly at all. He had to keep his
leg held lip with a heavy iron
weight. He was only about 3 years
old then. But he is probably dead
by now.
Your friend,
HORACE SAWYER.
The Russian Bears Were
Fussing Because Mrs.
Bear Was Suffragist
(Continued from -Last Sunday.)
Mr. Russian Bear, who was by
this time very, very hungry, tired
and shivery, suddenly came to "the
conclusion that he simply couldn't
stand Mrs. Bear's despotism any
longer, and that it was about time
to assert his rights. When the cage.
Dear Busy Bees: I am going to -i door swung wide and Mrs. Bear de-
wnte yuu a little story told by a
French child:
Hello, American children! I sup
pose you don't know me. I am a
little French girl, and my name is
Silvie. I am 9 years old and live in
Paris. My father went to war and
has never returned. My mother
was killed in a bombardment. I
was taken to a ho-ne for refugees. I
felt very lonesome there, but soon
cheered up, for there were other
children there, and the nurses were
very kind to me.
Whn the American soldiers went
through 1 went to see them. 1 felt
thrilled through and through.
Well. I will tell you the rest some
other time, for the dinner bell is
ringing. f
The Fox Terrior and Her Pup.
By Roy Llml'fleld aged 11, Ashland.
Neb.
May L join your Happy Hive?
This is my first letter I have writ
ten. I am in the sixth A and I am
11 vears old. My teacher is very
parted for a meeting of the Allied
I Animal Anarchists of the Prospect
j Paik Zoo, he creft-softly out of the
, cave under the rocks and made his
! way toward the house of Mr.
Knowit Muchandall. the snow owl,
who was said to be (he wisest bird
! in the captive animal world. As
I he approached, Simon Snipandsnap
I atem, the cross-eyed cinnamon bear,
; who had just come out of his
' smelly old den to get a breath of
, fresh night air, called out, "Hello,
; Trotski, where are you going in
! such a hurry?"
"I'm going to see Knowit Much
i ai;dall about starting divorce pro
i ccedings against my wife" answered
Mr. Russian Bear.
Simon Snipandsnapatem nearly
fainted with surprise.
"How on earth did you ever get
: up nerve enough to do that" he
; gasped.
"None of your darned business,"
growled Mr. Russian Bear, very
: profanely.
i "Oh, if that's the way you feel
refurned the cinnamon
crnnrt
T cliicrri rirlinir ninti nftpfc hut about it
there is no snow to co sliding onjK'ar' adding. Anyway I m going
now. I have a Black Beauty sled- a,ong t0 see if you really do what
I havo a Fox Terrior dog and she ; '" say you will ' So he trotted
is black and white. She is about 1 j along beside Mr. Russian Hear,
toot high and can do many tricks. Pretty soon they met old V anity
She can run very fast and loves to fair, the peacock, who screamed at
go hunting. She catTght a rabbit one
day and was goiug to tear it to
pieces, when I said drop that. She
dropped the rabbit and 1 picked it
them raucously and asked them
where they were bound for. Old
Vanity Fair's days of beauty were
about over.
"I think I'll come with you." she
simpered. "It isn't often I have an
opportunity to promenade with two
such handsome gentlemen 1 Tee-hec-hee!"
' ,
"Good reasoij why," growled
Snipandsnapatem under his breath,
and, as for Mr. Russian Bear, he was
too preoccupied with his own trou
bles to came orte way or another.
As they passed the monkey house
little Bob-o-link, the spider monkey,
came running out and, with a flying
lead, landed right on Mr. Russian
Bear's hairy back. I
"Gimme a rkje," he yelled, joy
ously. "Oh, shut up!" growled Mr. Rus
sian Bear, morosely, but he let Bob-o-link
stay where he had landed.
They went on a little farther and
there "the motley company met Mr.
and Mrs. Rein Deer and all the
little darlings, who were on the
point of starting out on a picnic.
Mrs. Deer had packed several neat
parcels of sweet green grass and
clover tops for lunch, and they had
planned to spend the evening in the
meadow down near the Yale of
G.shmere where the lovers weren't
quite'so thick as they were in other
places.
"Hello," said Mr. Deer. "What's
up?"
"Trot ski's getting a divorce!"
shouted Snipandsnapatem, excitedly.
"Crnie on and see the fun!"
"Don't care if I do," rejoined Mr.
Deer. "Doe-lores," he called to his
wife, "wouldn't you rathet go along
than have a picnic?"
Mrs. Deer, who was very fond of
scandal, answered in the affirma
tive, and so the whofe deer family
joined the procession, which had by
this time swelled to the size of a
lifted one leg from the perch, put
it down again, and ruffled his
feathers.
"Rubbish!" he remarked.
This was the sign that he wished
to be allowed to use his brains, so
all the animals held their breath
and waited.
After fully a half hour's delibera
tion, he spoke, "Hm-minl" was all
he said.
"Wonderful." gasped all the ani
mals in chorus, and poor Mr. Bear
gave a sigh of relief. Surely, if
anybody could help him, old Much
andall could, and he felt that his
troubles would soon be over?
A sudden confusion at the edge
of the paved courtyard drew the
attention of everyone from old
Knowit and his thoughtfulness to
what was going on outside.
A weird procession was seen com
ing through the gate and across the
cement flagging.
It was headed by three or four
of the porcupine police, whose duty
it was to see that all the animals
behaved themselves during their
hours of freedom, and several more
of the porcupines were lined Up on
the side. Two of the timber wolves
brought up the rear, dragging a
little carts in which were a number
of red flags and round, black sin
ister looking- objects with long
strings attached.
The animals forgot the old snow
owl in their excited curiosity as
they crowded around the crowd of
newcomers. Mr. Russian Bear even
went so 1ar as to overthrow his
chances of obtaining a decree of
divorce by rushing to the fore in
order to obtain a clear view of what
was "going on.
He gave one look at the proces
sion and then to the horror of every
one give a wild howl, and fainted
dead away.
"The' Painted Lath," but nn
fragrance, th' most exquisite of a
l.he little people, of the garden, mei
i: loi ine my right to be callc
sweet pea.
ting of a lender constitution.
etite and in
preparer! tor 11 1
die
hrMyer.
I ( ihl earth near the top will new
s :isfy my tastes. 1 like the so
, ihat is two feet deep, and I want
! i,;c;.llv enriched the richer the be!
t?r. With this kinl of food, an
r.m open Mtnuy locatiort, giing n;
j pY'ity of ligiit and fresh air. J con'
( i: u stop growing, no matter bo
ii;iih 1 might be inclined to
Of all the (lower-folk of the ga.
'. ' ;i 1 like to live near best, it
;Sv ect Willhm. I like him at m
! icet. because he grows low an
bti.-hy, and bears such enornioi
in .ids of blossoms that spread oi
ur and 'wide, and cover up my leg .
j I have always been ashamed
' mv legs, they are so squawny an
i i'1-shaped; a id my body too is vei
I tlnu. My fingers are long at,
1 ttpering and with them I hold fa
i to all tilings and bind the things.!
!oe the best, around with tin
, iings.
; Sometimes I stretch my neck
j fir over the garden that I am afra;
li will break. I am curious I wi .
! admit, but it is the curiosity of lov
! to ee all the children who visit tl
j gardtn. because T never want the'
io have without coming over to si
ami 1 me.
a shown by the dotted lines, you straight, reaay lor a nigni io evci.v (j,u, ay wi,en i was stretchm
can draw a donkey, making your little boy and girl, who has a gar- : mv t see WM0 ti,e little gi
oven pattern to fit auv piece of wood I b n. tvas coming in the garden gat
ready for use. The grain of the 1 am dressed, in red, and white , sVeet William bobbed up and kissr
v ood should run the long way of tnd pink. Of beauty of form 1 i nlc 0I, t(ie cheek. I blushed cri:,
the tov so that it will not split have none; of fragrance and color j son an(j tri.efiK'd, and tried so har
rasilv. La5t of all. of course, there only may I boast. . I to bide my face, but could not, at; :
rvrr since thpn T have been ca! e
gay colors has made many call nie ( Ke( Kj,jng Hood, or the scarlet
j scented sweet pea.
,, , , ,' . ,, ,,. , Sweet William has always flirte :
you o to nn i iei oicmi .... -;(le ,ratelv v.itl) nic an, he savs
was a case oi love at nrst signt.
By MARGARET M'SHANE
On tin-toe I stand, tall
comes the uaintine of the animal in Painted by Mother nature in such
its proper colors.
Snipandsnapatem ran for some
water and Vantiy Fair spread her
tail and fanned Mr. Bear's nose.
When he, finally cjnie to .he sprang
up and shouted, "Where is she?
Where is that woman?"
"Trotski, darling!" came a shrill
scream from the crowd, and like a
shot Mrs. Russian Bear tore herself
loose from the porcupine police and
threw herself upon the shaggy
bosom of her dumbfounded husband.
"Bolshi," gasped he, "where on
earth did you drop from and what
were you doing with those porcu
pines?" "Dearest Trotski," wailed Mrs.
Bear," flinging her arms around his
neck. "Save me from those cruel
beasts! They'll put me in jail. Oh,
save me."
Mr. Bear put her firmly behind
him and summoning all bis dignity,
walked up to the porcupine police
menand demanded in a deep, gruff
voice, "What were you doing with
my wife?"
"She's arrested on four charges,"
asserted Bill Spikesticker. the chief
of police, defiantly bristling up all
over as if he intended letting fly a
couple of quills at Mr. Bear for hav
ing dared to question - the action of
the law.
"What are they?" asked Mr. Bear
showing his teeth.
"Anarchist and Bolsheviki found
with red flag and high explosives in
her possession, high treason and
alienation of affections on the part
of Captain Jack, the African lion.
Mrs. Captain Jack is bringing the
matter into court 1" ,
Mr. Bear rubbed his forehead
with his paw in a dazed fashion.
"Bolshi," he sighed, turning to his
cowering wife, who was hiding be
hind his back. "Did you do all
these awful things?"
"Trotski, darling," she wailed,
jail, would you -aeat .
Here was his chance to assert
himself. Mr. Bear puffed out his
chest as if he intended telling Mrs.
Bear that jail was' just the place
for her, but when he caught sight
of her woebegone expression, he
wilted.
"I suppose not, dear, he said
meekly.
Then he turned on the porcupine
policeman.
"Get out of here" he growled,
lifting his big paw threateningly, as
if to wipe them out of existence.
"Your wife has to go to jail for
treason," objected the porcupine
weakly.
"My wife is coming home with
mei" roared Mr. liuian Bear. "She
isn t a bolsheviki any longer, and she
won't attend anv more meetings or
carryany more bombs. She isn't
going fooling around with Cap
tain Jack, as long as I'm living,
either, are you, Bolshi.'"
""o, darling," whimpered his
wile, snuggling up to the side of her
protector. The porcupines were so
disguested. that they just turned tail
and walked away with the gray
wolves at tltfir heels, dragging the
little carts with the bombs and red
ilags behind them.
In the eat. the first pale streaks
of dawn couldbe seen, so the bears
and the lions, the tigers and the
moi;kevs the raccoons, wolves and
cooing doves all made a mad rush
for their cages, and in less time
than it takes to tell, they were all in
bed and asleep so that when their
keeper came around in the morning
he saw everything as it had been
when he left the zoo the night be
fore. And a far as I know Mr. and
Mrs. Russian Bear have never had
another quarrel.
miniature circus parade. "
Knowit Muchandall nearlv fell off
and her tail feathers his perch when he saw what was
. . - . I 1 . . . 1 - 1 V . . - l. 1
up. It was nothing out a young one. I were naaiy in neeu oi renovating, coming, our oeing a very wise uuu.
She is afraid she is not going to get j but the poor old bird still retained j he said nothing at all, and waited
to go hunting when she sees a gun. i a sort of queenly dignity in spite in silence to, hear Mr. Bear's tale
She is 5 years old. J of her bedraggled condition. At of woe.
Her little puppy is so fat he can j sight of Mr. Russian Bear and I When the much abused husband
hardly walk. He is about 4 weeks Simon Snipandsnapatem, she spread j had fully aired his wrongs old
old. He can bite very hard1 when he j the ragged remnant of her tail and Knowit Muchandall slowly closed
gets ahold of your finger. All he i tilted her be? t coquettishly. lone eye and winked the other. He
Baby Belgians Returning Home ;
1 : i
I hope be does not think I try t
Airst with him, for my tip-toe an
Hide in the garden; but if you do,
Mr. Sweet William, you are vei .
much mistaken.
But I like Sweet William vei v
much. He is rafher a plain fellow.
I know, but so pert and independent
that I cannot held but like him.
Oil, here conies old. Bumble Be -from
the neighbor's garden. H
teases nie to death for my hone
ami sucks all I have. Often I havj
ducked my bead when I have see
him coming, but it. is of no use, foi
my perfume I cannot hide and h -would
find me even though I live !
in the clouds.
Mr. Bumble Bee visits me ofter.
W'th his big, yellow trunk, painte 1
round with black stripes, and Irs
be;:rl cocked on one side, he feci
himself lord and master of" all h
surveys, and nips honey, here and
there, at will. He does not visit
the other flowers as much as he doc?
us. He loves me for my brilliant
color and my sister. Gait ty, for her
pink and white stripes; and the
our exquisite perfume drowns the
scent of all the other flowers.
This and Sweet William's atten
tions causes a great deal of jealous'.'
in the garden. Our jealous friends
j say that wc paint red and white,
j that we aim tn shine in nosegays
i and that we stretch our heads so
eofceitly far over our companions
i that we might attract all gaze.
It is true we love to shine in nnsr
gays. for we are the queen of flow
ers for nosegays.
Tn be worn close to the heart of
someone, who really loves you; ti
be fondled, caressed, and admire!
there, what could give greater hap
pin"s.. The aroma of some stifles me si
that I quickly sicken and die. wit'i
other? 1 rati live for hours.
I do not want to die. but we mii't
all die sometime, and. if I do ni l
livelong in nosegay, it is sweet t.
die, ire-ed to someone's heart w
love and to die of love, of the !o
that some one little girl hob's
for you. makes our happiness grea'
er when we have passed on to 1 1 - -spirit
world.
For the last few day I have fe''
the northwest wind coming over
'he garden. It is so root that !
have to work hard to keep warr .
but the ioy of ripe old age has con.
upon nie.
I have been no idle loafer ni th
garden, who merely ate an( dra;S
heartily, ami made no return t
those, who gave me being.
I have paid my debt of bloom t .
the world. For this I came, and b
this wealth of bloom 1 must pa'
on to the spirit world, there to lb"
and love and play with the lvs, ti-
fleecy clouds, the night mists, at, '
the dewdrop. hoping not to be fo
gotten by the little folks, for I w":
think often of the ones who can
to mv corner in the garden to vis
with me, and give me drink, v.hr
T hed with them cm Mothc
Karth.
The foe, driven from their martyred
country, the Belgian children who
have been sheltered in Switzerland,
while the big taskwas in progress,
are being sent hfrnie. Here is seen
a group of them in charge of an rmt hard to
American Red Cross officer ju'-t i their joy once
betore the start. I bey are too sma:I
to comprehend just what this new
twist in their lives means, but it i-
iin ag me w nat will ' c
thev are back in o'd
the
familiar surrounding--, though
home they left may still bear
marks of "the invader's brutal he
Xot all of the most valuable dog
hi tlrs nresetjt war have been
high digree. Thousands have bee
oi-.t "plain dogs." It's what he Ca'
do, not whence he came, that niaki
a dog fir man worth while.
iSSisSiiS