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Our Boys
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PANSIES.
I'd been a naughty girl that day?
At least, that's what they said?
And so they took my dolls away.
And sent me alone to play
Down by the pansy bed.
I did not know what I should rfn
Without a single child,
Till all the pansies, white and blue,
Purple and brown and yellow, too,
Looked up at me and smiled.
'They said: "Oh, do not feel so sad!
Let us your children be."
Then what a happy time we had!?
I quite forgot that I'd been bad?
The pansies played with me.
?Emily Sargent Lewis, in "The Little Singer."
RUSSIAN SOLDIER THAT WAS A
CHRISTIAN.
Field Marshall Alexander Suwarrow, the
commander-in-chief of the Russian Army, during
the reigns of Catherine IT and Paul I, was
especially fond of mixing with the common
soldiers and sharing in the sports and conversations,
heing always highly delighted when
his men failed to discover him, and this happened
pretty often; for thanks to his small
statute and plain features, as well as the extreme
ungainliness of his dress, the great marshall
looked at times as little like a general as
any man could do. In this way he got to understand
thoroughly the character of his soldiers.
and had a erreater nower over tlmm than
any Russian general before or after him. His
marvelous power of enduring fatigue, his
insensibility to heat, cold or hunger, and his
untiring energy on the field of battle (in all
which points he surpassed the hardiest of his
grenadiers), made him the idol of the rough
soldiers whom he commanded; and a word of
reproof from Father Alexander Vasiliewitch,
as his men affectionately called him, was more
dreaded than the fire of a battery.
Before one of his Italian campaigns Suwarrow
gathered together a number of his best
men. and made them ene nf tho ohr??>t
speeches for which he was famous, and some
of which are remembered among the peasantry
to this day. "My children, we are going to
fight the French. Remember, whatever you
meet you must go forward. If the enemy resist,
kill them; but if they yield, spare them;
and always remember that a Russian soldier
is not a robber, but a Christian. Now go and
tell your comrades what I have said."
A few days later a great battle took place,
in which the day went against the French, who
began to retreat about sunset, and a soldier
named Ivan Mitrophanoff, who had distinguished
himself by his bravery throughout the
whole day, took prisoner, with the help of a
comrade who was with him, a French officer
and two of his men. Mitrophanoff bound up
the officer's wounded arm, and, seeing that the
prisoners appeared faint for want of food,
shared with them the coarse rye loaf which
was to have served them for supper. He had
scarcely done so when up came three Russian
grenadiers, hot with fighting and raising furious
cries.
"What!" cried they, "three of these French
dogs living yet!" and they ran upon the prisoners
with leveled bayonets.
"Hold, my lads!" cried Mitrophanoff, "I
have given them their lives and no one must
touch them now."
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But the soldiers would not listen to him, and
were rushing forward, when a stern voice from
behind ordered a "Halt!" and a little pugnosed
man dressed only in a coarse linen shirt
and a pair of old gray trousers stepped into
the circle. But frowsy and?-dirty as he was the
fierce soldiers could not have looked more
frightened had he been a giant in full armor.
"The general," muttered they, slinking off.
"Ay, the general!" roared Suwarrow, 'who
will have some of you shot presently if you
cannot learn to obey orders better! "And
you, * ne added, turning to Mitrophanoff,
"who taught you to be so good?"
"Your highness' own self taught me," answered
the grenadier. "I have not forgotten
what you told us last week?that a Russian
soldier is not a robber, but a Christian.
"Right!" exclaimed Suwarrow, with a
brightening face. "A good tvord is never lost,
you see. Give me your hand, my lad; you
shall be a sergeant to-morrow, and a right good
one you'll make."
And the next day he made good his word.?
Selected.
IDA ROSS' ESSAY.
The frown on Ida Ross' face deepened as
she looked out of the window; finally she turned
to her aunt. "I never knew of anybody
wtin ho/1 C.1/.V. ho/1 l??l' " ?1
.. ??u i/au luua, one L'Ulll JMit I I1CU. UT.
Iiice has just offered a prize for the best essay
on some nature study, and I can not compete.
How could I study nature when I am
tied to a chair by a broken limbT"
Mrs. Strong smiled at the gloomy figure in
the rocking chair. "Where there is a will
there is a way," she quoted softly.
Ida looked positively vexed, for she had expected
her aunt to sympathize with her very
heartily. "Who could have the will or find
the way to do a thing like that when they can
not walk?" she questioned. "My limb hurts
too, and nobody can work if they are in pain.
I don't believe anybody ever had such a misfortune."
"How about Milton?" inquired her aunt.
"He lost his eyesight, but he put aside the
thousrht.s of his miafnptnnn ?"^ e xl
0 - Viuio unu muiC lur me
world his wonderful 'Paradise Lost.' Robert
Louis Stevenson scarcely passed a day without
pain. He lived half his life with only
one lung, yet he wrote many books, and all of
them are filled with a message of hope, courage
and cheer. Sidney Lanier, ill and in poverty?
gave us poems that are full of inspiration."
"Yes, but those were men. I never heard
of a woman doing things like that when they
were sick or could not get around," returned
Ida.
"You have some interesting studies before
you, then," remarked Mrs. Strong. "Mrs.
Browning was an invalid, but she was also a
very Dusy poet. Fanny Crosby, blind from
a very little child, has written some of our
most noted hymns. You told me something
that you recently learned in school about Helen
Keliar; you remember that she is blind.
From childhood these women were handicapped
by ill health and misfortune, yet Jhe world
is richer and better for their work and the
example of their great courage."
"Please don't tell me about any more peo
IDTH [July 3, 1912
pie, auntie. I see what you mean: my misfortune
is nothing compared to those you have
mentioned, for my limb will soon be well
again, yet these people didn't spend their time
complaining." The frown had disappeared
and Ida looked very thoughful as her aunt left
the room.
"Ida is calling for something," Mts. Ross
said to her sister an hour later.
"Let me go," said Mrs. Strong. "If I can
not help you with your work, I can, at least,
wait upon Ida. Perhaps it is a good thing that
I came to visit you while she is laid up with
this broken limb."
"Would you bring me a pencil and paper,
please, auntie?" Ida requested, with an eager
note in her voice. "I see some squirrels out
here and I intend to watch them and see what
I can learn about them."
"That is a good idea," said Mrs. Strong
encouragingly, as she handed the articles to
Ida.
During the next ten days Ida watched the
squirrels every day. She noticed the home in
the tree, their play, the stores they were hiding
for winter. She wrote down the results
of. her observations, then she read and rewrote
many times. Two days before the close
of the contest, Mrs. Strong carried an essay
to school for her. It was called "The Squirrels
In The Yard," and it was Ida's very best
work, for she had watched the squirrels closely,
and had taken great pains with every word
and sentence that she wrote about them.
It was two weeks later that Mr. and Mrs.
Ross and Mrs Strnnn noma TJ"'
""o vuiuv iuiu i.un ? ruum
one morning before she was up. Mr. Ross
held the morning paper before her and pointed
to a headline: "Ida Ross Wins First Prize
For Essay," she read in astonishment. Tho
article told of her accident, and mentioned that
the essay was written from the knowledge she
had gained while watching the squirrels from
the window. Comment was made on the accuracy
of all the facts, and the essay was published
in full.
"It was all due to you, auntie, and you
should have some of the credit!" Ida exclaimed
after she had read every word. "If you
had sympathized with me that morning I talked
about my accident, I would have done little
else all these weeks but complain about my
ill luck. Your words set me to work. I guess
I watched the squirrels more closely than if I
had been able to get out of doors; at least,
I won the prize."
"It wasn't all due to me," Mrs. Strong as
3 1
surea ner. "1 gave you the idea that you
could do something even if you did have a
broken limb, but you saw your opportunity,
which was the squirrels in the yard, and made
the most of it."?Herald and Presbyter.
I
THE CROSS SQUIRREL.
Onoe there was a squirrel that did not like his
home, and he used to scold and find fault with
everything. His papa squirrel had long, gray
whiskers, and so was wise?besides which he
could shake his whiskers quickly. "My dear, as
you do not like your home, there are three sensi
ble things yon could do:
Leave it,
* or change it,
or suit yourself to it.
Any one of these would help you in your
trouble."
But the squirrel said, "Oh, I do not want to
do any of those; I had rather sit on the branch
of a tree and scold."
"Well," said the papa squirrel, "if you must