Newspaper Page Text
February 26, 1913] TBI
face. "Everything is ready anyhow, and while
you're upstairs getting dressed we'll wash
every one and set the table I"
And so they did. The older girl, after taking
one peek at the contents of the big box,
reluctantly left them and they fell to work
with energy, I can tell you! Herman and Bert
unpacked the dishes, and Elizabeth carried
them over to the table, while Margaret and
Jean washed and dried them. It was the greatest
fun! And there never was a more beautiful
set of china'
About half an hour later when Eleanor came
down in her new frock and big gingham apron,
all ready to finish up the dinner, there was the
table all set with eight of everything, and the
rest piled neatly on the pantry shelves!
"You children all look very happy!" was
the first thing the minister said after the blessing,
as they began their dinner.
"Indeed we are happy," said Eleanor. But
the minister didn't discover until long afterwards,
when he was Uncle Joseph, just what
made them especially happy that night.?The
Morning Star.
AN EVENING WITH THE JACKS.
Some young folks in England had lately a
merry "evening with the Jacks." One boy
was dressed up to represent John Bull, who
is for English people what Uncle Sam is to
Americans. He was supposed to be giving a
reception to all the celebrated Jacks that the
children knew so well. Britannia?she would
be Columbia with us?helped him receive his
guests, and she also played the piano to accompany
the songs that came into the entertainment.
In one corner stood a large box up
out of which Jack-in-the-box kept bouncing
every minute or two to make inaDDronrinte r?.
marks. John Bull would sometimes go and sit
on the cover of the box in a vain attempt to keep
him down.
The first guest was the Jack who used in
the old days to be so busy over the giants. He
Letten
Dear Presbyterian: I am a boy twelve years
old. I go to Sunday school most every Sunday.
Miss Carrie Smith is my teacher and I like her.
I am ih the sixth grade at school; my teacher is
Mrs. Dressier. I am interested in the letters
from the children. I wish to answer Frances
Preston's question: The disciple Peter denied
Christ. I wish to ask a question: Which disciple
betrayed Christ? I will now end, hoping
my letter does not roach the waste-basket.
From your unknown friend,
Covington, Va. Ben F. Sears.
Dear Presbyterian: I am a boy eight years
old. I have a black rabbit and five cats. I can
ride and drive horses and the name of our pet
horse is "Patsy." I have said the Child's
Catechism. I am going to school. The name
of my teacher is Miss Maude Bragg; she is a
good teacher and I like her.
Your friend,
Hot Springs, Va. William S. McClintock.
Dear Presbyterian: I am a little boy ten
years old. I go to school every day. I am in
the 5th reader and I have a little sister who is
in the same room. I have lots of pets; a dog
called "Rags," who can play hide-and-seek and
shake hands; a cat who can jump over your
bands and a bird that can ping very lond. My 5
father is a doctor and he has two horses. Every
summer and winter we go to our aunts in Penn
PtllttYTlKIAH OF TBS SO
wore a big sword and helmet, and John Bull
thought he might And tasks to keep him busy
even if there are no more giants. In America
this Jack might be given a broom in place of
his sword and told to go and keep the city
streets clean; or he might have a spade and be
sent to dig the Panama canal.
Then came in Jack and the Beanstalk. He
wore a dress of hunter's green and carried a
gigantic beanstalk. Boston children might give
him a nice little pot of baked beans and tell
him that this is the fashion in beans nowadays.
Jack and Jill came in and sang a song about
their adventures carrvincr thn nnii r?f
between them. "The House that Jack Built"
came in next. It was a large brown paper
house with a boy walking inside. He spoke
through the windows and showed each thing as
he mentioned it, repeating the old rhyme word
for word. At the constantly repeated "the
house that Jack built" he was joined by the
chorus who sang these words with him with
absurd effect.
Jack Spratt and his wife came in and had
something funny to say about agreeing to disagree
and so keeping perfectly good friends
all the time. Jack Frost appeared, all dressed
in red, and told of his achievements in a song.
Then two Jack Swppna oama in oil
w?ru VM??W * "> uii V/U?tJCU
with soot and carrying their bags. These
would be strange figures to American children,
but we remember in that familiar story, "The
Water Babies," how the hero first appears as
a little black chimney sweep.
Then came Cheap Jacks (we call them
Cheap Johns more often) and Jacks of all
Trades, acting as they do at country fairs,
selling things and making absurd speeches
about their wares. Jack Horner was there, of
course, singing about his pie. A big boy came
in drPKSArt HI Tnnlr Toe wlin ???~ ? ' ?
Mw ut , mm oau^ QUIUC OttllUT
songs and danced a sailor's hornpipe; and
there was a very sjnall boy who came in red,
white and blue carrying a Union Jack.
No doubt there are other Jacks if one could
5 From The CI
sylvania; we always have a good time up there.
I go to .Sunday school every week and my Sunday
school teaoher is Mr. Dcney, and I like him
fine. He has a little boy about my age who plays
with me, and his first name is Austin. I was
converted when I was nine years old and now
am a member of our church. I committed the
T J * -
vonuiraii nncu i nan sevCll HLIU gUl a UC11C
Bible and a song book for it. Please don't let
this go to the waste-basket. I will ask a question:
Who was the man that wanted to kill the
Syrian army and who saved them T
From a libtle unknown friend,
Elkton, Va. Oliver B. Gordon.
Dear Presbyterian: I am a little girl ten
years old. I am in the fifth grade. I like my
teaeher fine: her name in Miss Rrvin ffho leto
me talk whenever I want to. I go to the Methodist
Sunday school every Sunday that I can.
I like to go to Sunday school my teacher's name
is Mrs. Hughes. I am glad that my father is
a depot agent for the Mobile & Ohio Railroad
Co. He has been in service fourteen years and
next yeaT we will get a system pass. We go to
school on the train. We have been flrettiiu? div
ision passes, but we did not get it this year. I
have one sister and one brother and my sister
has a dog; he is awful good and we all love hitn.
rMy father is in Atlanta and we are at home by
ourselves. I don't like to stay here by ourselves.
I will have to close as mother wants me
ot a <1*5 7
think of them, and it might be possible to make
costumes to represent Boot Jack, J&ckstones,
etc.?The Child's Hour.
THE REVISED FAILURE.
The boy's face was a dull red under his tan.
He would rather have taken any kind of punishment
than face his father, but he went
QVIOI^IIV IU mc UI11UC.
"I've failed," he said, briefly. Then he
turned his back and stood at the window trying
to whistle.
"Dick," his father called.
The boy turned, the whistle dying on his
lips, his eyes full of surprise. He knew how
much his father wanted him to pass, yet there
was no reproof in his voice; he was even smiling
a little, and his grip brought a rush of
dumb gratitude to the boy's throat.
"Began to 'make up' too late, didn't yout"
his father asked. The boy nodded.
"well, it was a failure, of course; whether
it stays a failure or not depends upon what it
has done to you. Failure is one of the commonest
things in life?failure in a man's business.
in his ambition, in his hopes. Jcwett
failed the other /day?do you know what hia
creditors are going to dot"
"No," the boy answered, eagerly.
"Set him up again. It was a magnificent
failure?conditions he couldn't hold out
against without dishonesty, so he let everything
p)oA ?Tf\ Qnrl Irnn* Kin V? .J \~ 1~ 1"A ?
...v bw uuu uio iiuuui j huu ins creuuors
are going to help him on his feet because they
believe in him. No, Dick, I believe in my boy,
and I am going to let him decide for himself.'
I'll find you a position, or?you can take the
year over and try again. That would be tough,
I know?perhaps too tough for you. I shall
not say a word if you choose business."
But the boy *8 head was up now, his eyes
clear and determined looking Ktmi orVit infa liia
father'8.
"I'm going to take it over." he declared.?
Selected.
lildren
to gt> to bed. I hope my letter will not reach
the waste-basket. I want to surprise my father
and mother.
Prom your little unknown friend,
Pletcher, Ala. Elsie Mae Caldwell.
Dear Presbyterian: I am a little girl six years
old. This is my first year in school. I am in
the second grade, and am getting on nicely with
all my books. I have learned the Catechism for
Young Children since I started to school, and
recited it to our pastor, Rev. J. A. Trostle. "Will
be glad to get my diploma and Testament for
reciting it. Now 1 will begin on the Shorter
Catechism. Hoping to see my letter in print
very soon, Your little friend,
Janet Cameron McClintic.
Hot Springs, Va.
Dear Presbyterian: I am a little girl ten
years old. I go to the Methodist church, but my
fol/no T *"
c._ ?HWD xuc i iwujlenuu, ana 1 line
the stories so much in it. I had a fine Xmas,
and * got a great many things. I am in the
fifth grade at school and am getting along nicely.
I have n little sister and a brother. My
father is at the coast and my mother and we are
in San Antonio. i will look for my letter in
The Presbyterian next month.
Your friend,
San Antonio, Texas. Beatrice A. Stribling.