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Our Boys
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THE DOLLIES' TEA PARTY.
Now If you will listen, a story I'll tell?
Not only a tale, but a moral as well.
Two little dolls had a party one day,
And invited three friends from over the way.
Now the little guest dolls were as nice as could be,
And showed they knew how to behave at a tea.
But their hostesses?my, how those dollies did act!
It was just disgraceful, and that is a fact.
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While the other one gave just the awfulest squeals,
Because they were told not to grab at their food
But to wait to be helped, as polite dollies should.
Their little doll mother was in great despair;
And when the guests left, she said, "I declare
Ycu shall never again to your house ask a friend
Till I see that your manners at table you mend."
?New Zealand Outlook.
THE MARINER'S STORY.
BY LAWRENCE MENDENIIALL.
In the port of old Salem town sailing vessels,
smacks, and other craft, rose and fell with the
sleepy motion of the sea, and courtesied to the
well worn slime-covered wharves. On the shore
quaint gabled warehouses with dusty cobwebs
here and there reared themselves, while the fishy
odors left no doubt as to the occupation of some
of the inhabitants. Outside the harbor the ocean
lay like a sparkling jewel on nature's bosom,
as the sunlight played upon it.
From the town several roads, bowered by stately
elms, and bordered by sweet burnet, and mallow,
led into the country, the tinkling cowbells,
and the deeper toned, sweet sounding church
bells, lending their share to the enjoyment of a
walk. v
On one of these beautiful New England lanes
there may yet stand, for aught I know, the same
old cottage with its moss-grown roof in which
James Edwards, "grandpa," as he was affectionately
called, once lived. It was one of those
old-fashioned kind, with a front porch having
seats on each side, and quaint dormers with windows,
through the small panes of which could
be seen immaculate white curtains.
In the windows of the first floor, in their season
bloomed beautiful flowers, while in the yard
where the old well stood, graceful hollyhocks,
sunflowers, and rudbeckia nodded in graceful
motion as the summer breeze kissed them in its
flight.
On a certain November night in the year 1907,
I believe I have the right date, the fire cracked
in the broad fireplace of his home. The steaming,
puffing iron kettle swung lazily from the
old crane, sometimes giving an extra puff, as if
to say, "Better let me out! Better let me out!"
Bright rays from the blazing fagots in the
spacious fireplace beat back the darkness without,
and as the fire roared and the playful, dancing
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confidingly together in restful quietude. One
was that of a child of twelve years in all the
freshness of a May morning; the other that of
an old man. his hair whitened by the frosts of
eighty winters.
It was a beautiful sight, these two chums?for
such indeed they were?sitting in contemplation
before the cheery fire. Only the drowsy cat
and green tiled oven were wanting to bring one
of Knauss' beautiful pictures to your mind. On
a table nearby, opened to the 27th Psalm, and
upon which lay grandpa's spectacles, was the
well thumbed family Bible, several generations
old.
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ing day: contented in each other's society, neither
tpoke for a while, as the fire pictures took shapes
and the logs cracked and crumbled to ashes.
There was a cause for this mutual love, eonfl#
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PRESBYTERIAN OF THE BO
and Girls :
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dence and communion; it was found in a com- *
panionship of nearly eleven years.
Presently the child came out of dreamland,
and with that lively enthusiasm peculiar to
childhood, said: "Grandpa, what a fine night for
stories. "Won't you tell me one??that one about
yourself and my mamma."
The old man eyed the child affectionately, and
for a moment said nothing. Patting her little
dimpled cheeks, he at last broke his silence.
"Pless you, honey! I don't feel partic-lar bright
tonight; kind o' creepy an' cold, an' 'sides I've
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old. It alius seems funny that you like sorrowful
yarns. But dear me," said he with a sigh,
"it's no wonder. Mamie, don't bother grandpa
tonight."
"Oh please, grandpa. Just tell it to me once
more, and I'll promise not to bother you again?
or not until next time," as she roguishly added.
Gazing affectionately upon the child, he said,
"You're a little tcasin' scamp, but I guess I'll
reef my sails, lay to and surrender."
"With the child in his lap, her head on his
chest, grandpa, between solace-giving puffs from
his pipe, began his tale and, as he progressed
memory brought the light of other days around
him.
"I was born May 14th, eighty years ago"?
"In 1827," interrupted Mamie.
"Yes; and two months after, when every one
was sort of perspiry, I was christened James
Edwards by old Parson Bethune. I wasn't overly
polite to 'im, for I've been told that I kicked,
pulled his hair and bellowed. I guess," as he
stroked her chin, "you must 'ave inherited one
of my bad traits, for you did the same thing
twelve years ago. Then I had the measles,
chickenpox, colic, and whooping-cough, just the
same as other children. After a bit I grew up,
and gave my folks heaps o' trouble, for I didn't
care for the old meetin' house with its high-back
straight, hard pews, but played hookey, and skylarked
'round the old wharves an' whalers, learnin'
more badness than goodness. You know
sailors' yarns 'bout whales, icebergs, sharks and
porpuses are not told alius in very perlite words.
When I wuz your age I could swear, tell yarns,
and smoke as good as them. Besides I could
climb the ladders, an' name every part of the
ship from the bow to the malusky saily'd.
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me more cranky than ever.."
"Then you ran away, didn't you!" interrupted
the child again.
"Yes, I reckon I did, an' the Betsy Ann, the
ship upon which I shipped as a sailor, wuz a
spanker, I tell you. She wuz only four hundred
tons, but as graceful as a bird as she skimmed
along. "Well, after beatin' round consider'ble,
I got towed into port, and got, as sailors say,
spliced?I mean, married. We didn't have any
of the frills an' fussin' you have now-a-days
in the way of bridesmaids and throwin' of rice,
but we just walked into Squire Beazley's office
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dress dotted over with pink roses, an' the Squire
married us. Then he kissed the bride, an' I wuz
too happy to get mad, for I had done it a few
times myself. It wuz a squally day with the
wind blowin,' and the sea warnin' outside the
harbor,but when we heered the words, 'I pronounce
you man an' wife, we wuz the happiest
folks alive, an.' the sun seemed to shine all over.
"Them wuz happy times then, when we wuz
U T H [ February 28, 1912
all together, but all got now ia you, child,"
and he gave Mamie a kiss and hug. "No man
ever had"a better, safer steerin' gear than my
wife wuz. There wuz no rum, swearin', nor
earousin' where she wuz, honey."
"And did you never see your papa and mama
after you ran away? It must be awful nice to
have parents to love you. I never had any one
but you, but you're awful good to me, and
Mandy is good to have nursed me the way she
has."
"No, honey, I never saw them again, for they
were old people, an' 'fore I got back they had
slipped their moorin's, an' not very far apart
either. I grieved a good deal, for I felt an'
'-new that I had helped to cut the rope by my
meanness."
Here the old grandfather stopped to wipe his
eyes, gaze into the fire, taking an occasional pull
at his old clay pipe.
Rousing himself, he said: "As I said before,
I got married an' that cheered me up, an' made
a man of me, though I'm weak an' old now, barely
able to lift you to my knee. One morning
in May a little girl came to our home to bless
us. An' who do you suppose she wuz?"
"My mama, wasn't she?" exclaimed Mamie.
"Yes, your mama, God bless her! She was
sunshine itself; and to say she wuz a Christian
don't near tell it. Let me tell you, honey, my
boat couldn't go fast enough when her bow
pointed to'rds home. I wuz mighty partic'lar
how I steered, for I had somethin' to live for
now. But times has changed. Just suppose you
bring me grandma's an' mama's pictures. You
know where they be."
There was a decided tenderness in the old
man's voice as he uttered these words, and this
time in the child's absence he did wipe away a
tear, while he gazed into the fire and listened
to the whistling steam from the kettle. In his
actions there was something different tonight;
he seemed to be liviner in the nast. If his
thoughts could have been caught and questioned
in their flight, they would have whispered of
the dear ones of other days.
Ofttimes cannot we also see life's joys and
sorrows blend into a beautiful nature of contentment
ts "life'8 shadows are meeting eternity's
day."
The old man's reveries were broken by, "here
they are, grandpa! Do you think I look like
hert" as her mama's old daguerreotype was
shown him.
"Why, you do favor her consider'ble, an'
specially in her disposition. After a bit my little
girl grew up and just like her daddy fell in love.
You see I had a right likely young mate?Tom
Collins, and me an' him wuz great cronies, so
I wuz tolcr'ble well satisfied when they mated,
lie wuz, as we sailors say, sound in his timbers.
an' well built, and your mother of course was r*
perfect, for she wuz an angel?an' she's an angel
now. Well, well! cryin't You're just as tender
hearted as she wuz."
Again the grandfather stopped as he stroked
the curly head, and wiped a little teardrop from
her dimpled cheek. There was a glistening in
her eye, too, as a tear sparkled in the firelight
and fell to the floor.
The child was quiet for a time, for even a child
has moments of sadness and seriousness over
troubles as great to them as to older heads.
"I was thinking," she said, coming out of her
reverie, "how glad we would all be if grandma,
papa and mama were all here. We would be
better for it, wouldn't wet"
The old man gazed fondly at his grandchild,
and nodding, said: "Yes, indeed," and went on
with his story.
"Well," as he took another whiff in a deliberate
way, the fire adding its shjire in making