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MARCH, 1910 -- J * >< ***-7. '• ’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. Josh Billings’guide to health: Never run into debt, not if you can find anything else to run into. Be honest if you can; if 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? ’ WEBSTER’S 1 NEW INTERNATIONAL DICTIONARY Just Published. New from Cover to Cover. Contains More J Information of Inter- HL “ST est to More People I Than Any Other Dic i tionary. ’ ■ X—™" * I * 2700 PAGES. 6000 IL- 18 J J lustrations. I I 400,000 WORDS AND * ; PHRASES. S™* I J GET THE BEST in SCHOLARSHIP. CONVENIENCE, ' authority, utility. Write for Specimen Pages to G & C. MERRIAM CO., Publishers, Springfield, Mass. “A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN.” Do you want this said of YOU? If you are interested, send stamp for select information. We have something good. puritan mfg co, Bridgeport, Conn. EuOaDfAIAIC Thin eye-brows quickly "Jr*' "■ made beautiful and lux- uriant by the use of my famous “Eye-Brow Grower." Perfectly harmless. Price 50c. a box; 3 boxes $1.25. Dr. J. Edward Heyser, 1511 South 53rd. Street, Philadelphia, Penn.” nil JJQ QUICKLY RELIEVED. Robinson’s rILEO Pile Remedy is guaranteed to relieve piles of all kinds. Sold by druggists, or send 50 cents to The Royal Co., Auburn, Maine. 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HOW WOMEN EARN MONEY Abby Beatrice Knowles, the woman who has been instrumental in establishing thous ands of women and girls in the profession of Beauty Culture, is now sending free literature and a copy of her latest book, “LESSONS BY MAIL—BEAUTY CULTURE," to all appli cants. The book contains nearly one hun dred illustrations from life and tells how any one can quickly and easily learn a dignified and profitable profession at home, during spare time. If you are earning less than $25 per week, send at once for the book and free literature. Address, ABBY BEATRICE KNOWLES, Dept. 31, No. 2236 Eighth Ave., New York. Agents Wanted. 150 per cent, profit: write to day for terms and territory. F. R. Greene, 115 Lake St., Chicago. I TEACH PORTRAIT and landscape painting on / drawing paoer, silk, satin or ,£■* I'* ® »ny other fabrit over prints. ' W No talent required; a child can learn to paint by my copy- ' righted system. 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V dlllv Finest Quality, 3color Comics and Art Cards. 15 Assorted, only 10c.; 4odifferent 25c. Bernard Fish, 717 E. McCracken, Hoopeston, Illa 7