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6 (196) T H B P
Our Boys
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Miss Winifred Evelyn Constance McKee
Invited our dolls to nn afternoon tea.
"But don't bring them all,
For my table Is small.
Just each little girl 'bring her 'dearest,'" said she.
I felt in my heart it would not be polite
To take my poor Rosa?she's grown such a fright!
She's blind in one eye,
And her wigs's all awry.
For she sleeps In my bed with me all through the
night.
I explained to dear Rosa just why she must stay,
And I dressed Bonnibelle in her finest array.
And then, do vou know,
When the time came to go.
T snatched up my Rosa and ran all the way!
And?what do you think?of the six dolls that eame
There were four that were blind, there were two
that were lame!
And each little mother
Explained to some other,
'She's old, "but I love her best Just the same."
?Youth's Companion.
ON THE TKAIN.
The man who wore glasses went to the other
end of the car, and the two little girls watched
him closely. He dropped into a vacant seat,
took out a card and pencil, and wrote:?
Dear Little Girl with the Blue Hat,?I am
tired of reading, and there is no one here to
talk with, so I am writing you this note. Perhaps
your mother will let you answer it. The
little girl with the brown hat, whose nose turns
up?just a wee bit?is she your sister? This
io r\o r+1 TT f A Vl on
UVIV AO J'Ui IV/ livt,
Sincerely ycnrs,
A Fellow Traveller.
He folded his note and beckoned the little
girl with the brown hat. She came tottering
down the car, took it solemnly, and carried it
.to the little girl in the blue hat, who read it,
and as fast as she could scribbled her answer:?
Dear Man with the Glasses,?It was very
kind of you to write to us. Grace and I were
tired, too. Grace is my sister. You thought
right about that. She is six years old, but she
does not go to school. My father keeps a store,
and he is the best man in the world.
Your friend,
Muriel.
This time Grace, with the brown hut, sat
waiting until the man finished his note. Then
she ran back with it. It read:?
Dear Muriel:?Thank you for writing so
soon. Just from looking at you and Grace I
rather thought some older person in your family
must he nice; but, strangely enough, I never
once thought of your father. I live near Chicago,
in a house with a big yard, that holds a
playhouse and a sand pile and a swing, and I
am going to California. A lady there let me
marry her daughter, and I want to see her
again and thank her for it. Where are you
going f
When Grace carried thin nnh> MnriM
scribbled, faster than ever:?
Dear Man:?We are so glad that you are going
to California, because we are, too. Mother
is taking us out to see our grandmother. She 1
lives by the ocean. It seems very strange, but '
we live near Chicago, too, and have things like
that in our yard. Don't you love to ride on the
ears and eat in the diner 1 1
With love. Muriel.
R1SBYTERIAN 07 THE C
and Girls
The answer that came was:?
Dear Muriel:?I do like ridini? on thn nnm
but sometimes I wish there wasmot so much of
it all at one time. I hope we shall be well
enough acquainted by and by 30 that you can
visit me over here. You see such interesting
things out of my window; a moment ago I saw
a prairie-dog village, and just now I saw two
rabbits, running as fast as if their mother had
sent them on an errand. Maybe she had.
Muriel read this note until she came almost
to the end, then she bounced out of her seat.
"Oh, Grace, Grace!" she called. "Come
quick'"
They ran down the aisle and fairlv tumbled
into the man's lap. "Did you really see prairiedogs
and rabbits?" demanded Muriel.
The man with the glasses looked quite startled.
""Well'" be protested. "This is getting acquainted
fasti"
Grace reached up and took firm hold of the
end of his nose.
"Father!" she exclaimed. "Don't look that
way. "We're not going to play strangers any
more. We're going to be just your little girls
strain. We like it better."?Frederick Hall, in
Youth's Companion.
THE VERSE THAT HELPED.
Hilda and Gretchen and Elsa were three little
German girls, twelve and ten and eight years
-1 i * - -
oia, wno hart been left behind with grandmamma
and good Aunt Agnes, while their father
and mother went to America to find a new
home.
But at last they wrote, saying that the new
home was made, and now they wanted their
little girls to come to them.
But there was no one to go with them, and it
was a long, long journey for Hilda and Gretchen
and Elsa to take alone, over the wide ocean
and half across the United States. But they
longed to see the parents from whom they had
been parted, while papa and mamma, in the little
new house out on the "Western prairie, were,
in turn, counting the days till they should
come.
"Tt is a long way," said grandmamma, "to
go alone, and nobody knowp what trouble mnv
'?v
come to them, or what dangers they may fall
into."
"I know," replied Aunt Agnes, "but surely
we can trust the good Lord to care for them."
"We can and will," answered grandmamma.
So Hilda and Gretchen and Elsa were made
ready for the long journey they were to take
alone. And just before they were ready to
start, Aunt Agnes took a book, and on the first
blank page wrote a sentence in German and
French and English.
"Take this book with wn " ofc* ?**
^ ouv oaiUj put"
ting it into Hilda's hands, "and if you (ret into
trouble, or need any help, just stand still and
open this book where I have written, and hold
it right up before you."
Then the three little travelers set out, first
by railroad, then in the great steamer over the
J xt *- '
nuu uien nunnreds of miles by rail again.
And if ever they were in nny trouble, or frightened,
and did not know what to do, they would
stop and open the book, as Aunt Agnes had told
tkem, and hold it before them.
And always they found some one who could
read German or French or English, and who,
when they bad read wbat was written in the
I U VI [March 5, 1918
book, would help theiu safely on their way, to
the new home and the waiting father and mother.
Would you like to know what these words
were that made strangers and all who read
them so kind and hplnfnl t Th nv urnm
v,?
. *..vj ffwv KiO nviao
that Jesus spoke long, long ago; words that
everyone, children and grown people, can remember
and live by. "And the King shall answer
and say unto them, Verily I say unto you:
Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of
these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me."?
Exchanges
ENOUGH OF AN ELEPHANT.
BUSA NAOMI SCOTT.
When grandma and Kildee drove up to the
little brown house where grandma lived they
noticed nothing unusual
The windows, in their slight old frames, that
always seemed queer to Kildee because they
weTe so narrow, were closed against the chill
autumn air, and a faint smoke rose from the
kitchen chimney. Everything in the kitchen,
too, was as usual, a few minutes later when
grandma, after laying off her bonnet, went in to
fry the eggs and ham for luncheon.
Kildee spread a long, clean cloth on the din
ing-room table. Her "lionest-to-goodness"
name was Catherine, but she had been sick and
grown thin, and grandma had fallen in the way
of calling her "the little Kildee," and every
one had taken it up.
Suddenly Kildee squealed out happily: "Do
you mean, grandma, that I am to put raspherryjam,
peach sweet-pickle, preserved quinces, and
erabapple-jelly on this table?all four!"
"All four!" repeated grandma, peeping in to
see if the traces of tears had disappeared as
wholly from Kildee's face as they had from her
voice. To tell the truth, that morning grandma
had found Kildee unable to choke back the sobs
because she was not well enough to go to a cirPTIQ
in flto trill Q ctcx In OOA o Pn*r?nnn
wwm ?u L/iv t iv see a i aiiivuo ru;|?iiaia, llic
"Great Big," as the postei3 strewn along the
country road advertised.
Grandma was pleased to see Kildpe looking as
bright as usual. She had just set the glass preserve
dishes on the table, where they shone in
the sun that fell through a window close by.
Everything was as usual, too, in the back
yard when grandma stepped out on the porch
to dip a bucket of water out of the rain-barrel.
"Ill get some fresh napkins, girlie, and we'll
have lunch."
Kildee followed grandma into the linen closet
just for the thrill of the odor there of hidden
apples and lavender.
As she breathed in a deep whiff she heard a
queer, scraping noise, which seemed to brush
along the outside of the house.
"Grandma, I hear something!" cried Kildee.
"Oh, you don't!" said grandma, who was a
little deaf.
"But I do! I am afraid it is a burglar trying
to get into the house," whispered Kildee, putting
both arms around grandma's waist.
"Nonsense Don't be a baby!" reproved
Krmmina, closing me eiosct and turning into the
living-room.
Sweep! crash! bing bang. In fell the whole
window on the floor, the panes shivering into
what seemed hundreds of pieces! Through the
open window, liko an enormous question mark,
curled a great gray elephants trunk.
"Save us!" screamed grandma, dropping her
un | in iob.
Behind the trunk was a tremendous elephant's
head, his beady eyes shining at them, his tusks
white in the sun, his huge gray body bare of
any blanket or halter, and curiously wrinkled,
i "It's the Great Big! It's the elephant of the
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