Newspaper Page Text
MARCH, 1910
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’For Woman’s Work.
Tlhe IBnirdls 9 !Hl®m©lbiinWnini(gjo
fdKSxNE DAY Mamma heard strange
Vy # voices and saw a pair of “fly.
catchers” hovering about the chimney
and talking excitedly as though they
were planning to build a nest there.
But soon they chose a cypress tree in
stead, in the front yard close to the
house, where Helen played every day:
then they sat in the tree top and chirp
ed and twittered about it, not caring in
the least that she heard it all.
Helen saw them bring the first twigs
and lay the foundation of their new
home, and oh, how delighted she was!
She watched first from the window, then
she went softly out on the porch, into
the yard, and under the tree.
“They don’t care one bit,” she called
back, triumphantly, as the birds con
tinued their work.
How perfectly happy these birds were!
They worked, sang, and played together
in the sweetest way imaginable. They
began work at peep-o’-day , and Helen
would hear them before her own sleepy
eyes were open. They always quit work
before noon, going away to rest and re
fresh themselves for the remainder of
the day, but returning occasionally to
take a satisfied look at the nest, and to
talk over theirplans in the low,soft touts
which distinguished them from other
bir Is.
When the nest was nearly completed,
Helen made a discovery which pleased
her greatly.
“Oh, Mamma!” she cried, “these
darling birds are lining their nest with
rose petals!”
Mamma watched and saw a bird poise
in the air, pick into the heart of a big
white rose, and fly back to the test with
a petal in its beak.
“Oh, my! They are taking the
Marechai Niel roses now, Mamma;
won’t their nest be sweet?”
“And, sure as the world, Mamma,”
she called a little later, “they’re taking
the ‘marguerites,’ too!”
There was a very ragged bunch of
“marguerites” before the work was fin
ished, for nearly every flower had to
give up some of its petals to line the
precious nest. At last it was done, and
the birds had a holiday.
The next morning Mrs. Flycatcher sat
on the nest for an hour or more, and
then the birds went away. Papa drove
under the tree, and by standing up on
the wagon seat he could look into the
nest.
For Woman’s Work.
Will’s Vacation Mission.
TT AST day of school! ’Rah! ’Rah!
’Rah! Vacation!” the boys all
shouted, as they ran down the street —
all the bovs except Tim Blank.
“I say,' Tim,” said Will Randall,
“what’s up? Why don’t you ’Rah?”
“ ’Cause I hate vacation!” Will ex
claimed.
“Gee-whizz!”
“You’d hate it, too, if you was me!”
Tim said, sullenly. “It's bother with
the little uns, chop kin’lin, run errants
from mornin’ till night. Bah! I’m sick
of it!”
Will was silent. He knew that Tim’s
home did not compare favorably with
his own. Tim’s mother had such a lot
of childien, and Will was an only child.
Tim’s home was a forlorn house, with
scarcely any paint on it, and there was
not a speck of a garden around it—only
a down-trodden yard with one pitiful
tree. Will’s home was a beautiful place,
with grass-plots and flower-beds and
fruit trees, and all around it a hedge of
laurestina.
That evening Will went to his grand
ma’s room —for Will had that next to the
greatest of all blessings, a dear, sweet
Grandma.
“I feel real blue about Tim Blank,”
he said, as he took his favorite chair.
Then he told Grandma about Tim.
“It’s dreadful for him to hate vaca
tions. I can’t be jolly when I think of
it,” he said miserably.
Grandma suddenly took him in her
“There’s a little speckled egg up
here,” he called to Helen, “and some
day I’ll get the stepladder and help you
up to see it.”
In less than a week there were three
little eggs up there, and Mrs Flycatch
er had gone to sitting. How pretty she
looked in the tree top. The slightest
wind swayed the nest, and when the sea
breeze came in the afternoon it rocked
like a cradle.
There was no happier bird than Mr.
Flycatcher. His favorite place was in
the top of a tall tree, where he flitted,
hopped, sang and called joyously to his
mate from day to day. He would dart
into the cypress tree often, and light be
side the nest. Then it was beautiful to
see the bit ds' loving ways. They would
put their heads together, “just like they
were kissing,” Helen said, and chirp
and twitter in glad, sweet tones that de
lighted every one who heard them
It was a charming scene in b rd-life,
and Mamma and Helen promised them
selves great pleasure in watching those
birds with their young—but this pleas
ure never came.
One day Mamma heard a loud chirp
ing, and saw both birds on the telephone
wire. She supposed that Mrs. Flycatch
er was off for food, and thought no more
about it until she saw the nest empty an
hour later. Then it occurred to her that
the nest had been disturbed, and that
Helen’s pet cat, Purr, had done the mis
chief
She went quickly into the yard; then
she saw that one side of the pretty nest
was crushed down, and that the birds
were nowhere in sight.
Papa straightened the nest, when he
and Helen came from the orchard, but
there were no eggs in it, and no signs of
them under the tree: Purr knew what
became of them!
The birds came back the next morn
ing, and it was pitiful to hear their
grieving over their ruined home.
“They sound just like they are cry
ing,” Helen said, with quivering lips.
“They are, dear,” Mamma answered
sorrowfully, as she listened to the griev
ed voices of the birds.
Mr. Flycatcher soon went silently
away, but Mrs. Flycatcher sat on the
nest awhile, as if hoping to restore the
eggs. For three successive mornings
they did this way, for it seemed as if
Mrs. Flycatcher could not give up the
home where she had been so happy.
Emma W. Jolliffe.
arms and kissed him. Will liked to
be kissed “when no one was looking,”
so he submitted gracefully to her
embraces and patted her lovingly on
the cheek. Then she took off her
glasses and wiped them: “I guess you’ll
have to make him have a good time this
vacation,” she said, and then they had
a long talk.
The next afternoon Will appeared at
Tim’s gate. Tim was minding the chil
dren. He wore his old clothes and
looked miserable.
“Hello, Tim,” Will called out.
“Hello!” Tim answered, in a hopeless
voice. Os course Will was only passing
by! No boy ever came to see him—he
didn’t expect them to. But Will open
ed the gate and walked straight in.
“I’ve come to play,” he announced,
“that is if your mother doesn’t mind.”
At that moment Mrs. Blank appeared
at the door. Will went up to her and
took off his hat: “If you please, Mrs.
Blank Mother says if you don’t mind I
can pass the afternoon with Tim,” he
said, politely. Mrs. Blank looked pleas
ed, for Will’s mother was one of the
‘ rich folks” of Alameda.
“Glad to see you, but Tim’s got to
mind the children,” she said, looking at
Tim.
“Oh, of course,” Will said, hastily;
“I’ll help him.”
The children were rather an unprom
ising set. They were either too shy or
too bold; they either ran away and hid
Woman’s Work.
their faces, or they went up to Will and
tried to hit him with sticks. Tim’s face
was full of misery.
“Det’s play soldiers,” Will said, sud
denly. “Go and ask your mother for
some old newspapers and some pins,
and we'll make each of the little ones a
cap. You can be captain and I’ll be
major, and we’ll drill.”
Hardly believing it would be of any use,
Tim went into the house and soon re
turned with paper and pins. Gradually
the shy children became interested, and
pugnacious ones no longer used their
sticks against their visitor. Such a hap
py regiment they made! Will became
interested, and ran home for his drum.
A new existence began for Tim, for
from that day Will was always coming
over. He brought his garden tools and
helped Tim to make a garden. Grand
ma gave him some seeds and all the cut
tings he wanted, and at the end of a
mouth the Blank’s yard didn’t look at
all like itself. The children soon took
a great interest in the garden. At first
they pulled up the plants as fast as Will
and Tim planted them, but Will soon
bribed them not to do this. Once or
twice a week the boys took the children
to the beach. Will began soon to be
fond of the children, and entertained
Grandma at night by telling of their
pranks.
But the crowning success of Will’s
love-mission came the very last week of
vacation. Graudma was invited to spend
a week at a fruit ranch in Santa Clara
County, and she told Will he could not
only go with her himself but he could
also take Tim along.
Tim’s mother couldn't refuse the in
vitation, for Grandma not only deliver
ed it in person, but gave Tim a brand
new outfit.
When the day for the departure came,
when the last little sister and brother
had been kissed and consoled with a
stick of taffy that ill had thoughtfully
provided, Tim went over to Mrs. Ran
dall’s with his clothes - which were to
be packed with Will’s.
Tim had never been out of Alameda
in his whole life, so the trip to San Jose
was a source of delight to him, as was
the fruit ranch, with its trees loaded
down with cherries. Oh, how Tim did
enjoy it all!
The days flew by, as happy days al
ways have a fashion ot doing, and all
too soon the boys were again at home.
Vacation was over, and the children
flocked to school.
“I say, Tim,” Will said, as the two
met at the school gate, “what do think
of vacations now?”
Tim’s eyes filled with happy, grateful
tears, and Will’s voice was rather husky
as his friend said: “Shake, old fel
low!” M. G. T. Stempel.
For Woman’s Work
Two bittie IJirds.
THESE little birds are hungry, but
they never make a sound. They
are very well trained. They are not like
little children, because little children
would fret and cry if they didn’t get
their breakfast.
Well, I must goon and tell my story.
The mother bird said one day: “Babies,
you must learu to fly.” So both little
birds tried to fly, but only succeeded in
flying a little. When they had flown to
the ground they could not fly into the
nest again. Then all at once a little
boy came by and saw the little birds
and picked them up. You may think
he took them home, but he didn’t.
After a long search he found their nest
and put them in it, and oh, how happy
the little birds’ parents were! After that
the parent birds could hardly get them
to fly, because the little ones were afraid
they couldn't get in the nest again.
Ada Miller.
For Woman’s Work.
Two Dogs.
Once upon a time there were two dogs.
One of the dogs had a bone; they were
fighting about it, when a cat came and
fought too. One of the dogs was brown
and one was black. Then the brown
dog got the bone and ate it.
Wilhelmina Wouters, age 7.
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you can’t be honest, pray for health.
Laugh every time you feel li ikied, and
laugh once in a while anyhow. Never
borrow what you are able to buy, and
always have some things you wont lend.
A Is The Best Too Good For You? ’
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