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November 3, 1909. THE
art* having hash and crumb pudding for
dinner!"
The Hible tumbled into Robin's cradle,
and the minister's wife fairly flew kitchenward,
her quiet hour forgotten, her prayer
for patience, her poise and calm uni
bought of in the necessity for works,
which sometimes are as prevailing as
faith.
The minister sighed sadly. "I am
afraid she isn't very spiritually minded,"
he murmured, and he gently brushed
aside some flecks of dust front the sacred
book and laid it reverently on the table
amid the piles of darning before he went
to the stairway to call down and ask if
she were coming right back, or whether
lie should carry the weeping Kobin down
to her. ? Suaie Bouchelle Wright, The
Interior.
X
SALLY SWEET-SHOE.
"How did we celebrate holidays in
Stroudwater when I was a boy?" repeated
Great-uncle Ned. "Oh. we met at
somebody's house and had a candy
scrape. Don't, bother me?I'm reading
the paper."
"Molasses candy?" asked Ruth.
"Yes. Don't I tell you, I'm reading the
paper?"
"How many oi you were there, altogether?"
"Twenty. Keep still now. I don't want
to tell stories. I'm reading the paper."
"You must have had a big kettle."
No answer.
"Uncle Ned, you must have had a
Still no answer.
"Uncle Ned, what a big kettle?"
"Yes, and I wish you were in it!"
growled Uncle Ned. "Yes, we did have a
big kettle. Each of us furnished a quart
of molasses. At first we used to carry out
separate pailfuls, but some brought
good and some poor molasses, so that the
candy was apt to be poor, too; and after
a while we decided to have each one contribute
a share of money and buy it?
good New Orleans molasses not such
stuff as you get in these times. Now let
iue alone; I want to read the paper!"
"Who made the candy?"
"Well, some of the older girls. Your
Aunt Minty Jane was pretty good at it,
and Deborah Dusenberry was a master
hand. Then, while they watched it boil,
i he rest of us played games?puss-in-the
corner, I spy, ring-around-the-rosy, and
the like. And when it was done, we all
ii?lped pull?and eat.
"Well, there, I suppose I've eot to tell
it, if I ever want a chance to read the
paper in peace. But. remember, I'll tell
vou only just this one!
"Our folks were willing that we should
*tay till ten o'clock; but there was one
.girl, the one everybody liked best?Sally
Orumpacker, her name was?who always
had to go home at just such a time?eight
o'clock sharp. She lived Vith her grandparents,
who were very strict with her.
We used to go early and make candy
right away, so that she needn't inisn the
l'?n.
"But one night?at Seth Conistock's?
the molasses was slow about coming to a
PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SOUTH
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boil, and it was five minutes of eight before
it was ready to take off. Debby
Dusenberry poured some into a pan and
set it out on the steps to cool, so that
Sally should get a taste of taffy, anyway,
and we all promised to save some of the
pulled candy for her. I was going home
with her. and we put on our things and
watched the clock, and at eight Debby
went out and tried the taffy, but thought
it was not cold enough.
"Sally knew that if she didn't start
Ava/'tlv nn I ?> a !*?? * J " ? 1 J?* *
uii tunc, uci ^laiiuiuiuei wouiua I
let her come again. She had to go. She
said good-bye, and we started.
"1 saw the pan of candy, and gave a
flying leap, but Sally wasn't thinking, and
stepped right into it.
"'O, Ned,' cried she, in a horrified tone;
'I've stepped in the candy, and it was
just hard enough to stick, and I've walked
it right out of the pan!'
"I sat down in a snowbank and laughed.
" 'O. Ned," said Sally, 'do getvit off?and
we'll eat it as we go along!'
"So I pulled it off as well as I could.
Then I doused the sticky sheet into the
snow and broke off a big piece for her?
nnd we ate taffy all the way home."
"O, Uncle Ned!" cried Ruth, wishing
she had some that minute.
"Well," went on Great-uncle Ned,
"when I got back to Seth Comstock's. I
found them all agog over the lost taffy.
They never mistrusted where it went to.
and they were making all sorts of guesses
?the cat, Watch the dog, some boy, the
fox that had been around?and Si Dusehberry
insisted that it must have been a
panther!
"I did not let on a word but Sally told
them next day. Debby called her "Sally
Sweet-shoe." and the name?like the
candy?stuck. And that Is why your
(ireat-aunt Sally has always been called
'Sally Sweet-shoe' by the old neighbors,
even to this day."
* f 4
. . 19
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"How tunny!" laughed Ruth. "I like
that story about Aunt Sally."?Elizabeth
Hill, in Little Folks.
ONLY A CENT.
Uncle Harris was a carpenter, and had
a shop in the country. One day he Went
into the barn, where Dick and Joe were
playing with two tame pigeons.
"Boys," he said, "my workshop ought
to be swept up every evening. Which of
you will undertake to do It? 1 am willing
to pay a cent for each sweeping."
wmiy a cent!" said D!ck. "Who would
work for a cent?"
"I will," said Joe.
So every day, when Uncle Harris was
done working in the shop, Joe would
take an old broom and sweep it.
One day Uncle Harris took Dick and
Joe to town. While he went to buy
some lumber they went to a toy shop.
"What fine kites!" said Dick. "I wish
that I could buy one."
"Only ten cents," said the man.
"I haven't a cent," said Dick.
"I have fifty cents," said Joe.
"How did you get fifty cents?" asked
Dick.
"By sweeping the shop," answered Joe.
?Sunday Afternoon.
Why Does It Cure
Not because It la Sarsaparllla,
but because It is a medicine of
peculiar merit, composed of more
than twenty different remedial
agents effecting phenomenal
wuido VI irgunm OT inv DIOOO,
stomach, liver and bowels...
Thus Hood's Sarsapsrilla cares scrofula,
eczema, anemia, catarrh, nervousness,
that tired feeling, dyspepsia, loss
of appetite, and bnilds up the system.
Get it tod*? in the usual liquid form or ia .
chocolated tablet form called Sarsataba.