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6 (1036) lail.f
Our Boys
A SONG AT TWILIGHT.
The crescent moon has risen in the west,
The nodsy sparrows cease their sharp, shrill cry,
A mother folds her baby to her breast
And sings to It this little lullaby.
Baby mine with golden head go to sleep, go to sleep,
Mother's breast Is your soft bed, go to sleep, go to
sleep;
Naught can frighten or alarm thee,
Mother's near and naught can harm thee,
Hush?a?bye!
Day iB o'er 'tis time for sleeping,
Shut your eyes for stars are peeping
In the sky;
All the flowers have gone to rest,
All the birds are in their nest,
Slumber on your mother's breast?
Baby mine!
The twilight air Is laden with perfume
Blown from the roses twining o'er the door,
God's tapers faintly now the dusk illume,
While mother sings her lullaby once more.
Baby mine with eyes of blue go to sleep, go to sleep,
Mother's love o'ershadows you, go to sleep, go <o
sleep;
Mother's arms so tightly hold thee,
Slumber soon will safe enfold thee,
Hufih?a?bye!
Prom the -west the night comes creeping,
Shut your eyes for daylight's Bleeping,?
Don't?you?cry.
Mother's lips to yours are pressed,
God Is watching while you rest.
Slumber in your little nest,?
Baby mine!
?J. R. Moreland.
THE STORY OF MRS. APPLE TREE.
One morning in spring a little boy and girl
ran merrily down the garden walk. The little
boy carried a tin shovel and something shut up
tightly in his hand. Presently they came to a
nice place in the garden, and shoveled the earth
away with the shovel until they had a little bed,
then they put the tiny seed they had carried into
the little bed, and covered it with the dark
cover. In the little seed, all folded away asleep,
was a tiny plant?the little germ of life?which
the sunlight and rain and proper soil would
waken and start growing.
The big, round sun shone down on the little
bed, and after a time the little seed said "Dear
me, how warm I am; I really must throw off my
brown jacket."
It tried to do so, but found it very hard, so
said it must wait a little longer. Before many
days a cloud came sailing along through the sky
and said to his children, the raindrops: "There
is a little seed down in the earth that needs
your help. You've been long enough in cloudland,
anyway; it is time you were going back
to earth to help the streams and rivers to the
ocean; then of course, yon can come back.''
So the little raindrop children came pattering
merrily down, and trickled all about the waiting
Beed, and then ran on. Soon the seed began
to swell; its jacket became so tight it could hardly
breathe. It made another effort to throw it off.
and it split right open and came oir witnont a
bit of trouble. So the little plant was free; but,
O my! it was so dark?so very dark.
"There must be light some place," said the
plant, "or I wouldn't want it so badly."
, So it sent the little roots down into the earth
to get something to eat to make it strong, and it
kept pushing up to find the light. One day it
pushed right through the dark ground, and it
K ? 8 B ? T ? K 1 A. N OF XIi ? 8 <C
and Girls
was so bright it could hardly see for awhile.
Pretty soon the little sunbeam came and said,
"Welcome to Earthland, little tree," and the
breezes too, gave it welcome. It errew verv fash
y ~ "
One day in spring something came out all over
the little twigs beautiful and green. Yes, they
were leaves. Then something white, something
with a little pink tinge, came to visit Mrs. Appletree.
These, you say, were the blossoms, babies.
After a time Mrs. Apple-tree said that her
children were no longer babies, and ought to put
off their baby dresses. She had so many babies
to dress, and you know it takes a good while to
dress a baby, so Mrs. Apple-tree said she would
have to help. She called on Mr. Wind and his
family, and jolly little breeze children, to help
her undress the babies, and she had arranged
with Madam Spring to have their short dresses
all ready.
The Appletree children were very tender and
must not be left undressed an instant, so Madam
Spring did a very Strange thing. She put on the
short dresses before Mr. Wind had taken off the
baby dresses. She never could have done it, of
course, only that the Apple-tree children never
had sleeves in their dresses, so you see she could
just slip them over their feet and tie them snug
round their necks, and just as quick as a wink
Mr. Wind and his children whisked off the white
dresses and carried them away.
Old Mother Earth called to Mr. Wind, and
asked him what he was going to do with the baby
dresses. Mr. Wind hardly knew, because they
were not at all soiled.
"Well," said Mother. Earth, "We must never
waste anything, so if you will just toss those
dresses into my lap, we will make them over
for the Apple-tree babies next year." Mr. Wind
was very glad, and tossed the dresses into Mother
Earth's lap for her to make over.
The children's short dresses were?yes, they
were all green: and there was something very
strange about them too. They were a little like
rubber?when the Appletree grew, why their
dresses grew, too, so they never had dresses too
tight, hut just nice and snug.
One day in fall, Mrs. Apple-tree said that her
children were grown, and that they ought to have
new dresses; hut she really could not afford to
buy them any new ones, and she just believed
she would color them. She was very particular,
so she sent to the best coloring shop she knew
of. Mr. Sun was the proprietor. He sent down
his little sunbeam fairies?Red, Orange, Yellow,
Green, Blue and Violet?in a ray of light to do
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Mrs. Appletree thought the children were old
enough to choose the color they wished for their
dresses, and they thought that they would
all have red ones. And do you know, when they
saw how beautiful those little sunbeam fairies
were, they did the queerest thing?they went to
work and ate them all, except the little red fairy,
and she wouldn't be eaten up. Some people
would say they absorbed them; but anyway, the
little red fairy said if she made their dresses sihe
couldn't be eaten.
if- ttt:_j ? ' ?
i?ir. w iiju came aiong one aay to see now tnc
children looked in their new dresses, and he
was delighted. "Now, Mrs. Apple-tree," he
said, yonr children are all grown Tip, and look
heantifnl in their new dresses; it's time for them
to go out into the world and make some one
happy."
1
I 0 T fl [ September 11, 1912
Mns. Apple-tree sighed, but she knew that was
what God meant, and what she had reared her
children for, so she let Mr. Wind take them to
make little boys and girls happy.?Christian Advocate.
BOBBY'S MISTAKE.
Shall I tell you about Bobby, whose life?
nay, wnose death?contained such a line moral?
Well, he was my foster child, and he was
not Bobby at all, but Robert E. Lee; and he
was not a child, but a beautiful thoroughbred
Irish setter dog. It all lay in that second adjective
"thoroughbred," because, you know,
there is as much difference between a thoroughbred
and a feist puppy as there is between
a dignified, straight-stemmed clay pipe made
in Ireland from a bit of the old soil, that may
be smoked at moments when the bowl has
turned the other way, and one of our graceful,
curve-stemmed clay pipes made of Jersey soil
and baked in the oven of the New World.
Well, I was really Bobby's foster mother.
One day a certain little "Go-between," who
had much influence at the court presided over
by her mother, said: "I know some one who
has five Irish setter puppies, and they are all
going to be drowned."
"WW*"
"Well," said little Go-Between, "the mother
is sick and the coachman refuses to bring up
by hand, so they are to be all drowned."
"0, Go-Between, do you suppose we could
try our hand on raising one!"
A pair of bright eyes answered "Yes," long
before a certain little tongue could speak it.
And Go-Between added: "And Mr. Fox said
I might have one." So, after all, some one
had fallen into a trap prepared for her, because
it had been suggested that Go-Between's mother
might adopt one.
The puppy came the next dav wraDDed un in
a nice warm flannel shawl, curled up in a tiny
grape basket, sound asleep. He never knew
when the papers were signed, and he exchanged
the fond love of a genuine mother for the apolo?
gy we gave him. However, it was the best
thing that could have been done, because the
next day his mother died.
How did he coma by such a name? Well,
that is part of my story.
Go-Between's mother studied history when
she should have been reading Louisa Alcott's
stories, so all the dogs bred in her dear father's
kennels bore the names of her heroes in history:
Napoleon, "Polie;" Bonaparte, "Bonnie;"
Grant, "Ulysses;" Lincoln, "Linkie,"
and so on. Naturally, this child of adoption
must be called after some one whom she had
been taught to love.
Have you ever tried raising a puppy three
days old when you adopt him? First he must
be supplied with nursing bottles. The rubber
tip must be the tiniest ever. He must be
bathed and rubbed dry every day. His dear
little cold nose must be rubbed with alcohol.
He must have a clean flannel blanket and warm
bed in which he is put to sleep. When he is
nursing, he will miss the nice, pliable warm
body of his mother. He will not consider a
glass bottle a favorable substitute at all. And
your hands will be clawed and scratched a9
you .try to perform the office of mother to the
little furry ball.
Bobby looked like a picture of a baby seal,
he had such a beautiful body, covered all over
with a reddish brown hair, which lay in one
wave after the other. His head looked too
large, all out of proportion to the body.
As soon as the cow was milked, two quarts
were put aside for Bobby. Perhaps that was
why he grew so much flesh or, rather, fat. At