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BY AUNT SUSIE.
(This is a corner set aside for the Little Folks of The Constitution for their enter
tainment and development .n the art of letter-writing.)
Time Picnic.
It’s June agin, an’ in my soul I feel the
fillin’ joy
That’s sure to come this time o’ year to
every little boy;
For. every June, the Sunday schools at pic
nics may be seen,
Where “fields beyont the swelUn’ floods
stand dressed in livin’ green;”
,Where little girls are skeered to death with
spiders, bugs an’ ants,
An’ little boys get grass stains on their go
to-meetin’ pants.
It’s June agin, an’ with it all what happi
ness is mine— ,
There's goin’ to be a picnic an’ I’m goin to
jine!
One year I jined the Baptists, an goodness!
how it rained!
(But grampa says that that's the way bap
tizo” is explained.)
And once I jined the ’Piscopals an’ had a
heap of fun—
But the boss of all the picnics was the Pres
byterian!
They had so many puddin’s, sallids, sana
widges an’ pies,
That a feller wisht his stummlck was as
hungry as his eyes!
Oh, yes, the eatin’ Presbyteriuns give yer
is so fine
That when they have a picnic you bet I in
goin' to jine!
But at this time the Methodists have spe
cial claims on me,
For they’re goin’ to give a picnic on the
21st, D. V.;
Why should a liberal Universalist like me
object
To share the joys of fellowship with every
friendly sect?
However het’rodox their articles of faith
elsewise may be, ,
Their doctrine of fried chick'n is a savin
grace to me! . t
So on the 21st of June, the weather bein
fine.
They’re goin’ to give a picnic, an I m goin
to jine.
—Eugene Field, in The Chicago Record.
Owl» and Their Habits.
Some of you were very much interested
In our letters on birds and their habits.
Maybe we may have something about owls,
and some of the boys may be able to tell
what thev know of them, as you live in the
country where you have the opportunity of
seeing different kinds. If you will look at
the picture of an owl you will understand
why the owl is called the “bird of wisdom.”
Did you ever see such big, solemn eyes?
They look at you as if they were looking
way beyond you, and have a wise, know
ing look that no other bird has.
The owl has always been called the em
blem of wisdom. It must be because he
looks so solemn, and perhaps because he
tiies about in the night and makes that curi
ous noise that sounds so awfully solemn in
the dark hours of the night. It sounds as
if he were asking, “Who! Who! Who! ’
There are a great many different sorts of
owls. Did you ever see the great horned
owl? They are often two feet high and
awful ugly looking creatures. Then there
are little fellows, but they all have the
game wise look. Most owls are of dark,
grave colors—brown, gray or black—but in
Greenland, the colfl region, they are snow
white, and they travel all over the country
unseen, searching for food. 1 hey are just
the color of the snow that covers every
* Owls live all over the world. Out on the
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MR. BARN OWL.
prairies there is an owl called the burning
owl, which is about as large as a pigeon,
and’it makes its home underground. It is a
cunning little creature, but not very hon
est, for it will find its way to some nice lit
tle home that a prairie dog has made and
will go in and select a corner and take up
its abode. The prairie dog is such a peace
ful little creature that it allows it to re
main. It is too lazy to make a home, so
shares another.
The usual home of owls is in some old
ruined building, or in the hollow trunks of
trees They sleep all day, and as soon as
dark comes start out in search of food.
Thev eat anvthing they can catch —rabbits,
rats, mice and frogs, and will carry home
food’ for their little owlets.
Any small animal an owl can catch makes
a, meal for him. I once had an owl, and
he was a big one, sent me from the country
for a present, but I did not have use for
that kind of a present, so I gave him to
B doctor in Atlanta who said he was aw
fully troubled with rats in his stable, he
was delighted with the owl and said it was
only a short time before the rats were all
gone, and he was proud of his “pet;” he
■would not have been induced to part with
>im. . _
The commonest kind of an owl and the
owl most country boys know most of, is the
barn owl or screech owl—it certainly
screeches and has the very name that suits
it This owl is also a splendid rat and
mouse catcher, and it is a smart mouse that
can escape it, but farmers dislike it, and
kill it whenever they can, and I do not
wonder, for I think the most mournful,
frightful sound I ever heard, is that made
bv the screech owl. If any of you know
any special habit or anything of the owl
life I will be gflad to hear from yoq,
“ ’ AUNT SUSIE.
The Prize Story.
After having read nearly four hundred
manuscripts, the committee selected to
choose the best story on “A Summer Va
cation,” written by any boy or girl reader
of The Constitution, has been awarded the
prize of five dollars in gold to Miss Kate Tol
leson. of Monticello, Ga.
The story appears elsewhere this week.
The prize offered for the best story on “A
Summer Vacation” has been the most diffi
cult to decide because of the uniform ex
cellence of the stories. Indeed, it was only
after a careful sifting down of the manu
scripts and a close comparison of quite a
number of them that any decision at all
could be reached. Finally, however, It was
THE WEEKLY CONSTITUTION; ATLANTA, GA., MONDAY. JULY 9, 1894.
agreed that, all things being considered,
the story by Miss Kate Tolleson was the
best, and a check for $5 will accordingly
be mailed to her at once.
Taken altogether the stories were won
derfully creditable to the boys and girls.
They came from all parts of the south and
some came from states as far off as lowa,
Connecticut and California. We have saved
some of the best of the stories and they
will appear in some future issues of The
Constitution. In the meantime we are
sure that all the boys and girls will con
gratulate the winner of the prize on her
success in the pi ize story contest.
YOUNG FOLK’S CORRESPONDENCE.
Letters of Exchange Among The Consti
tution’s Little Folks.
Magdalene, Layfield, Giles, Ga.—l have not time
to stay a minute,"but 1 want to s>y a word to the
boys. I, tor one, do not think it one bit smart or
cute in you, to lie always telling how no account
you think we girls are. We know you do not mean
it. and even if you did, you need not think you
can convert anv of us.
Some boys tliiak that girls are only fit to make
bread and coffee; yes. and jack rabbit pie. They
sav the uirls are so tickle.
Now, boys, this won’t do; you had better “fess
up,” as the darkies say, and acknowledge that you
were just trying to do something a little extra,
and that you don’t mean a word you say.
I have just wished I was a cowboy bandit, or
something awful so that I could tell you about it,
but as I know such things arc impossibilities, for
1 am only a girl, a nuisance, and a bother.
1 had to sav my say, any way. I have been want
ing to write for a long time. I live awav down
here on the Chattahoochee river, where the air is
fresh ami fragrant, ami the woods with music
ring. lam not like most ol the cousins writing
in the most beautiful portion of the day—evening
when the fading light ot the golden sun bathes
the earth in beauty, when trees sigh gently, and
fresh breezes watt sweet odors, and gently kiss
your brow. No. lam writing at 12 o’clock, when
“Old Sol’’ is shining his hottest, and when one
thinks mostly about luncheon or dinner.
lam going to school now, but it will close the
15th of June, and we will have a picnic the next
day, and I am anticipating a tine time.
1 am watching the progress of our column, and
I am sure we have all improved considerably since
we first became members of the band.
1 help mamma when 1 come from school. lam
the regular dish-washer, so mamma says. Until
now I have been afraid to plead for admittance,
but 1 have at last decided, no risk, no gain.
This is a beautiful day, the birds sing so sweet
ly. Will some one please send me the recitations
of “flie Watermelon,” “It is Mother’s bong,”
“The Bashful Young Man.” And the songs: “I
am Waiting my Darling for Thee,” anil “Love
Me Only,” and “Down on the Farm.”
Correspondents solicited.
Harry Ray, Burningtown, N. I have been a
constant, but silent admirer of the cousin’s letters
ever since i have been reading The Constitution,
and have thought lor some time as this section is
not represented, I would write to the cousins, if
Aunt Susie will allow me admittance in her circle.
1 know but very little of city lile and its pleas
ures, but think the quiet old lai m, with clear bub
bling springs, beautilul flowers, green pastures,
and large fields of waving grain, must be tiie
loveliest place a boy could hope to live in.
I live in the country among the high hills of
western North Carolina, seven miles from the
beautiful little town of Franklin, the county site
of Macon county.
Thisisagre.it agricultural country. We raise
wheat, corn, oats, potatoes, ami a great variety ol
garden vegetables. The growth of tobacco is very
large. It is shipped to Asheville, Durham,and
and other markets with profits.
in view ol my home, on tne west, rises the
Wantababa mountain range, of which many of
its towering peaks are from 6.(100 to 7.000 feet
above sea level, while on the east lies the Cowee
range.
Between the two ranges lies spread out a broad
and fertile valley through which flows the Tenues
see river. This, probably, is the most interesting
section of the most interesting section of the Old
North State.
Cousins, do you like traveling? I wish I could
travel all the time. I was in north Georgia and
east Tennessee in the fall of 1800. Have always
wanted to go back to Georgia. 1 stayed in Mari
etta several weeks, and went on a short visit to
Cartersville. I saw many fields white with cotton
and heard the humming of the cotton gin.
1 thought surely tiiat the Georgia people must
love and reverence the name ot Eli Whitney for
having given them the cotton gin.
Correspondents solicited.
John Hendrix. Dennard, Ala.—l judge from the
reading of your letters you are friends to educa
tion. This is a subject of considerable impor
tance to us.
Education is the full, complete and harmonious
development of all the powers and faculties of the
body. lam glad the young folks are alive to its
cause and interest.
Tins is an advanced age ot the world, and those
who do not maue progress in tins line, shall event
ually fail to meet the requirements and responsi
bilities of this life.
When I look over my past life and see the
crooked paths in which I have traveled, it makes
my heart acne.
Cousins, we have every advantage, and why do
we not justly use ami appreciate them. We all
have one or more talents and we should improve
them.
If we were as courageous as our forefathers
were, doubtless our progress in education would
be more rapid. Think of the advantages wt have
today which they were entirely destitute of.
Where they had rude log houses and benches,
incompetent teachers and a lew books, we h ive
fine colleges and desks, and a variety of books and
good teachers. I think seinetimes we have ivory
thing necessary but the will.
Knowledge is a great thing when properly used.
By it we are recognized in society, it is said that
“ignorace and vice are twin sisters,” anil tnere is
not a convict in prison that does not owe his crime
to some idle hour of his lite. Youth is the time to
prepare for all these.
I will answer some of the cousins’ questions:
The stamp g.ct was passed if) 1765.
The Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, now in the
state of Massachusetts, in 1620.
Columbus first landed on San Salvador, or Cat
island.
Daisy, Mrs. Hetty Greene is said to be the rich
est woman in America,
Alice Colton, Evergreen, Ala.—l have just re
read “Stepping Heavenward.” 1 had forgotten how
very interesting it is. Some one writing to the
Young Folks’ Corner suggest a few good books for
young people to read. Jdo not know it that lias
been done, but if it has, 1 hope “Stepping Heaven
ward” and “Henry Milner” were mentioned.
1 am not sure about boys, but I know some girls,
and I am afraid the greater number of them, after
oliserving the title of either of these books, would
lay them aside with the idea tiiat they were only
“a religious book and the life of some eminent,”
which of course would prove extremely “prosy”
to one accustomed to reading romances.
Girls, I fear lew of us realize the importance of
“spending each moment as should be.” I have
lost opportunities I shall not have presented me
again, perhaps, to read some of the errors of no
ble men and women.
But that was when I was young—N<>. I will not
endeavor to justify myself, for even then my
judgment was sufficiently developed to make me
feel confident that the words which 1 obtained at
school were not just what I ought to read.
I have learned at last that little or nothing can
be found among the pages of a dime novel to
benefit any one.
It must be very interesting for the cousins to
write to one another, and if this is printed, I shall
be so glad to have some of them write to me.
Luke Cewill, Chlybeate Springs, Ga. —I want to
say that I am n bov seeking an education, and am
willing to work lor it if any good man or woman
is willing and able to give a boy a chance to work
half of the time and go to school the other half.
Please let. me know. I am seventeen years old
and have a common school education.
Minnie E. Purnell. Memphis, Ala.—This is my
first attempt to write to 'the Constitution, and I
hope it will not reach the waste basket.
lam a farmer’s girl. I live in tne little village
of Memphis, eighteen miles from the nearest rail
road station, which is Macon, Miss.
All the steamboats land near our house; we can
see them very plain. I think they are very pretty,
but I never rode on one. The young people here
enjoy riding on the river in skiff boats. \Ve have
picnics on a lake about three miles from here
sometimes, and have very nice times fishing in
the lake and taking skill rides. We have nice
times playing croquet. I have a set and am very
fond of playing.
We have a good Sunday school here, and I enjoy
going to it very much. 1 have several pets; I have
a pretty shepherd dog named Jet. My brother
Emmett lias two pretty little puppies, one named
Towser and the other Ranger. I have four cats. I
like to raise turkeys and ducks. 1 have seven pret
ty little turkeys but have not any ducks now.
I would like so much to see Aunt Susie and the
cousins. Will some of the cousins send me the
words to the song: “Take This Letter To Aly
Mother?” I will send in return one of the songs,
“Paul Vane,” “The Blind Girl,” or “The Wounded
Spirit.”
Julia Burch, Enon, Ala.—Aunt Susie, I have
been trying for a long time to tind courage enough
to write to your most wonderful paper, but have
never succeeded in doing so before.
I am a farmer’s daughter and live in the coun
try, which I dislike very much. We have no school
near enough to go to, therefore we study at home.
Papa takes The Constitution and we all like it
so much, especially do I like the Young Folks’
Corner. Aunt Susie, please write often; your
letters are so very interesting, and wc enjoy read
ing them so much.
I will answer “E. L. C.’s” question : It was Ponce
de Leon who went in search of the fountain of
youth.
Will Aunt Susie please give me the address of
Edna Brower, as I would like to get one of her
pictures. Age eleven.
[ Write to Edna Griffith, Steubensville, N. Y.,
and you can get a picture of Edna Brower.]
Anne P. Green, Avonstoke, Ky.—For years I
have been an admirer of The Constitution, and
especially the Young Folks’ Corner.
Kentucky is in her summer splendor just now.
Our famed blue grass is in bloom, and it is indeed
lovely. The roses are beautilul, although the cold
did us great damage.
We have good loads, good schools and churches,
a great many fine horses and pretty women, some
handsome men, some of the prettiest farms in the
world; and, with all these 1 am afraid we are. not
as grateful as we should lie.
With love and a rosebud for Aunt Susie, I close,
asking lor correspondents with some of the older
cousins.
Jimmie Maddux. Barling, Ark.—l have just been
reading the cousins’ letters, and thought I would
give a description of western Arkansas. I live
in Sebastian county, on the Arkansas river, seven
miles from Fort Smith . Sebastian county produ
ces more coal than any other county in the state.
The chief occupation is farming. We raise corn,
cotton, wheat and oats principally. Wheat and
oats are ripening and the farmers will will soon go
to harvesting.
I went boat riding Sunday with a crowd of girls
and boys; the girls were so afraid of the water,
that we could hardly get them in the boat.
The girls think they arc ahead of us but we will
show them that’they are not. Boys, spur up.
Fannie Gultis and Maggia Guttrell, Oregon,
Tenn.—Two jolly country girls are now trying to
claim a place in the columns given to the young
folks. We are given this lor improvement, and it
is our duty to try and make our letters as interest
ing as possible, and always strive to improve.
Wc live in a beautiful little valley and a very
pleasant place in which to live. We have long been
readers of The Constitution but never nave writ
ten before.
Our best wishes are for Aunt Susie and the dear
cousins.
We desire correspondents.
Sallie Langley, Leroy, Fla.— Here is a Florida
cousin asking admission to your liapnv band. We
have not been taking The Constitution i a short
time, but 1 think it is the best newspaper there is.
I will exchange the song “Orphan Girl,” for the
song “The Last Words Mother Told Me.”
1 will answer W. W. Simbaugh’s question:
America was called America alter Americus
Vespucius.
Why do not more of the Florida cousins write?
A Summer Vacation.
(The following story, entitled “A Summer
Vacation,” has been awarded the prize of
$5 in gold as being the best story about
a summer vacation. It has been won by
Miss Kate Tolleson, of Monticello, Ga.)
“Grandma, please tell us just one story
tonight—just only one,” pleaded all the
children at once. I mean by all the chil
dren, Lizzie, Syble, Kathline, Harry Jack
and Tom. They were ail just the age to
like to hear stories—from seven to fifteen
years old.
“Just one, grandma, dear,” said Jack,
the “girl boy.”
"Very well, dears. Now, what shall it be
about,” queried grandma.
“Well, tell us about some of your vaca
tions, granny. We are having such a nice
time ourselves, just tell us something about
some of yours,” said Syble, who liked ‘old
timey tales.’
“Well, I'll tell you about on® vacation
I spent, at my giandma’s. It \>as one sum
mer when I was just fifteen years old, but
it seems as only yesterday when 1 think of
it now. There was a crowd of girls out at
grandma’s—let me see. I’ll name them over.
Belle, Mary, Ruth, Polly—yes, there was
Polly—Nan and myself and John, Herbert,
Jack and Will. Nan and I were sisters and
the other girls were our friends, while
uncle Jack now was out there with a
crowd of his friends.
“Uncle John had fixed us up a
lot of nice things to amuse us. We
had two or three boats and the river was
just glorious. We also had hammocks,
swings and bathing houses, one for the
boys and another for the girls. We all
slept in one large room, the old, old nursery,
and the boys had their rooms just across
the hall from our. We were very scarey
girls and the boys were always playing
jokes on us. Why, once they got grandpa’s
skeleton (he had been a physician) dressed
it up in man’s clothes and put it in the
closet. When Ruth and Mary went to the
closet one night in search of a book—
no one else upstairs—they had just
climbed upon a box and moved some things,
when what should they see but the skele
ton? Ruth had a lamp in her hand. Mary
was away back in the closet and she
nearly fainted. Ruth called, and the way
we all went up those stairs was wonderful.
We threw some water on Mary and soon
she was all right, and the way the boys
teased. Grandma had to stop them, and they
didn’t play such bad tricks on us after that,
but they didn’t quit by any means.
“But 1 just must tell you about our bath
ing house. Uncle John had everything made
just right. We could run and jump in the
water and swim. We learned to swim every
kind of way and soon thought ourselves
very good swimmers. We had us a dressing
room, and nearly all of our clothes were
down there at the bathing house. Then
we had us a parlor, which was elegantly
furnished, we thought.
“Grandma let us have anything
we wanted that we could find
upstairs in the garret, so we searched
and found an old sofa, which must have
been beautiful when new, but now the vel
vet was all worn off, one leg broken
and one arm broken also. Still, with the aid
of Jack and the other boys, we made it
look quite comfortable. There were old
chairs and a table also, and we took them
down to our parlor, and, having gotten an
old carpet, which we put on the floor, we
tidied up the room, and it was just splendid.
We also found old dresses that would fit us
up in that wonderful garret and we decided
to have a show, as we called it. So we
invited all the children, large and small,
who lived around grandma’s to come.
“\Ve fixed up our parlor real nicely for a
show room, putting up curtains, taking out
lots of things in the way and sweeping and
dustins. All this took us two or three
days. The night was to be on Friday, just
two days off, but we had to practice a
good deal, so we put it off a week. The
fun we had practicing was immense.
Grandma would come down there every
night with us and stay in the room where
we were practicing so as to help us decide
things. We had a right lengthy programme.
When the night arrived there were lots of
people who came, grown as well as children.
We carried out our programme without a
mistake. We acted “Sleeping Beauty,” and,
oh, lots of other plays! We all dressed in
the old clothes we found upstairs. Every
body said it was just splendid.
“Still dearies, you must not think we
were forgetful and thought only of our
selves. No, no, we went to see several of
the sick people aroun l grandma’s, took them
good things to eat and books to read.
There was one old lady who said she
guessed we were sent as angels by God to
help her that summer, and maybe we were.
The girls looked so pretty, especially Nan,
as they would go about the houses, look
ing so sweet, with their flowers.
“But I see Jack and Harry seem to be
getting fidgety because I’ve told nothing
about what the boys did by themselves,
but you will have to go to grandpa for
their part of that vacation, fer he was
there also —all the time I was. Yes, Jack
was there as well as I. Now that’s
enough for this time about that summer va
cation of mine,” grandma concluded.
"Oh, how I wish I’d been there,” said
Kathlene, sighing. "Still, I think we are
having as nice a vacation as granny did.
Don’t you all?”
“Yonder is grandpa. Come, let's hear what
the boys did,” said Jack. And away they
ran to hear what the boys did in 1814, in
stead of 1894.
“I used to think young people didn’t have
a nice time in ‘old times,’ but I believe
differently now,” said Lizzie.
LITTLE MR. THIMBLEFINGER
And His Queer Country-What the Children Saw and Heard
There.
By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS, (Author ot “Uncle Remus.”)
Copyrighted by the Author, 1894.
PART IV.
Two Queer Stories.
There is no doubt the children were ver£
much surprised to see Mr. Rabbit. They
were astonished to find that he was so
large and solemn looking. When the
negroes on the plantation told them about
Mr. Rabbit—or Brother Rabbit, as he was
sometimes called—they had imagined that
he was no larger than the rabbits they
saw in the sedge field or in the barley
patch, but this Mr. Rabbit was larger
than a dozen of them put together.
In one way or another Sweetest Susan
and Buster John and Drusilla showed their
amazement very plainly—especially Drusil
la, who took no patns to conceal hers.
Every time Mr. Rabbit moved she would
nudge Sweetest Susan or Buster John and
exclaim; “Look at dat!” or, “We better be
gwine!” or, “Spozen Brer Fox er Brer Wolf
come up an’ dey er dat big?”
Mrs. Meadows noticed this; indeed, she
could not help noticing it. And so she
said:
“I reckon maybe you expected to find
Mr. Rabbit no bigger than the rest of his
family that live in your country.”
Before the children could make any an
swer, Mr. Rabbit began to chuckle, and he
chuckled so heartily that Sweetest Susan
was afraid he would choke.
“I don’t wonder you laugh,” said Mrs.
Meadows, elevating her voice a little, as if
Mr. Rabbit were a little deaf.
“It may not be polite to laugh in com
pany,” replied Mr. Rabbit, “but I am
obliged to do it.” His voice was wheezy,
I . .
“My mother washed the coat and the waistcoat.”
and he nodded his head vigorously. “Yes,
I am obliged to do it. Why, I could put
one of those poor creatures in my coat
pocket. They are not Rabbits. They are
Runts. Yes, Runts. That’s what they are.
And to think, too, that their great grand
parents might have come here when I did.
But, no! They wouldn’t hear to it. No
new country for them, they said. And so
they stayed where they were, and the
breed has dwindled down to—to nothing.
Fll be bound they have forgotten how to
talk.” He turned to the children with a
look of inquiry.
"Why, of course, rabbits can’t talk,” said
John.
Mr. Babbit thook his head sadly and put
his hand to his eyes. "Well, well, well!”
he exclaimed after awhile. “Can’t talk!
But I might have known it. The family’s
gone to seed. I’m glad I’m not there to
see it all. A neighbor here and there does
no harm, but when people began to crowd
in I concluded t> move, and I’m glad I
did. I’m old and getting feeble, but, thank
gracious. I’m not a Runt.”
“I don’t see but you’re as nimble as ever
you were,” remarked Mrs. Meadows, sooth
ingly.
“I know—l know!” Mr. Rabbit insisted;
“I may be as nimble, but I’m not as keen
for a frolic as I used to be. The chiinly
corner suits me better than a barbecue.
Mr. Rabbit closed his big eyes and sighed.
“Well, well—everybody to his time, every
body to his taste!”
Mrs. Meadows nodded her head approv
ingly. “Yes; between first one thing and
then another, there’s lots of time and a
heap of tastes.”
“They tell me,” remarked Mr. Rabbit
suddenly, “that things have got to that
pass in the country we came from that
even Mr. Billy Goat, who use to eat
Meat, has dwindled away in mind and body
till he hangs around the stable doors and
eats straw for a living. That’s what Mr.
Thimblefinger says, and he ought to know.
I suppose Billy is still bob-tailed? I re
member the very day he had his tail broken
off.”
Why Mr. Billy Goat’s Tail Is Short.
■“Oh, it doesn’t amount to much,” said
he. “H’s hardly worth talking about. I
think it was one Saturday. In those days,
you know, we used to have a half holiday
every Saturday. We worked (hard all the
week and we tried to crowd as much fun
;nto a half holiday as possible. Well, one
Saturday afternoon Mr. Biily Goat and
Mr. Dog were walking arm in arm along
the road, talking and laughing in a soci
able way, when all of a sudden a big rain
came up. Mr. Billy Goat said he was
mighty sorry he left his parasol at home,
because the rain was apt to make his horns
rust. Mr. Dog shook himself and said he
didn’t mind water, because when he got
wet the fleas quit biting.
“But Mr. Billy Goat hurried on and Mr.
Dog kept up with him until they came to
Mr. Wolf’s house, and they ran into the
front porch for shelter. The door was shut
tight, but Mr. Billy Goat had on his high
heel shoes that day, and he made so much
noise as he tramped about that Mr. Wolf
opened his window and looked out. When
he saw who it was, he cried out:
“Hallo! this is not a nice day to pay
visits, but since you are here, you may as
well come in out of the wet.”
‘But Mr. Dog shook his head and flirted
up dirt by scratching on the ground with
his feet. He had smelled blood. Mr. Billy
Goat saw how Mr. Dog did, and he was
airaid to go in. So he shook his horns.
“ ‘You’d just as W’ell come in and sit by
the tire,’ said Mr. Wolf, unlatching the
door.
“But Mr. Dog and Mr. Billy Goat thank
ed him kindly, and said they didn’t want to
carry mud into the house They said they
would just stand in the porch till the
shower passed over. Then Mr. Wolf, took
down his fiddle, tuned it up and began to
play. In his day and time few could beat
him playing the fiddle. And this time he
played his level best, tor he knew that if
he could start Mr. Billy Goat to dancing
he’d have him for dinner.”
“I don’t see how,” said Buster John.
“Well,” explained Mr. Rabbit, “if Mr.
Billy Goat begem to dance he would be
likely to dance until he got tired, and
then it would be an easy matter for Mr.
Wolf to outrun him.”
“Os course,” said Sweetest Susan.
“Well,” Mr. Rabbit continued, “Mr. Wolf
kept on playing the fiddle, but Mr. Billy
Goat didn’t dance. Not only that, he kept
so near the edge of the porch that the
rain drifted in on his horns and ran down
his long beard. But he kept his eye on
Mr.. Wolf. ASter playing the fiddle till
he* was tired, Mr. Wolf asked:
“ ‘How do you get your meat, my young
friends?’
“Mr. Dog said he depended on his teeth,
and Mr. Billy Goat, thinking to be on the
safe side, said he also depended upon his
teeth.
“ ‘As for me,’ cried Mr. Wolf, ‘I depend
on my feet!’ and with that he dropped his
fiddle and jumped at Mr. Billy Goat. But
he knocked the broom down and the handle
tripped him. It Was all very sudden, but
by the time Mr. Wolf had recovered him
self Mr. Billy Goat and Mr. Dog had gone
a considerable distance.
“They ran and ran until they came to a
big creek. Mr. Billy Goat asked Mr. Dog
how he was going to get across.
“ ‘Swim,’ said Mr. Dog.
" ‘Then I’ll have to bid you goodby,’ «e
--plied Mr. Billy Goat, ‘for I can’t swim a
•stroke.’
“By this time they had arrived at the
bank of the creek, and they could hear
Mr. Wolf coming through the woods. They
had no time to lose. Mr. Dog looked
around on the ground, gathered some jan
weetl yan weed and tan weed, rubbed them
together and squeezed a drop of the juice
on Mr. Billy Goat’s horns. He had no
sooner done this than Mr. Billy Goat was
changed into a white rock.
“Then Mr. Dog leaped into the creek and
swam across. Mr. Wolf ran to the bank,
but there he stopped. The water was so
wide it made tears come in his eyes, so
deep that it made his legs ache, and so cold
that it made his body shiver.
“When Mr. Dog arrived safely on the
other side he cried out, ‘Aha! you are
afraid! You've drowned poor Mr. Billy
Goat, but you are afraid of me. I dare you
to fling a rock at me!’
“This made Mr. Wolf so mad that he
seized the white rock and threw it at Mr.
Dog with all his might. It fell near Mr.
Dog, and instantly became Mr. Billy Goat
again. But in failing a piece was broken
off, and it happened to be Mr. Billy Goat’s
tail. Ever since then he has had a very
short tail.”
“Were you there, Mr. Rabbit?” asked
Sweetest Susan, bluntly.
“I was fishing at the time,” replied Mr.
Rabbit. “I heard the noise they made, and
I turned around and saw it just as I’ve
told you.”
Drusilla touched Buster on the arm, “We
ain’t dreamin’, is we, honey?”
Buster John looked at her scornfully.
“What put that in your head?” he asked.
"Suppose the rock had hit Mr. Dog?”
suggested Sweetest Susan.
“Now, that’s so!” exclaimed Mr. Thimble
finger. "And it reminds me of a little ac
cident that, happened in my mother’s fami
ly. But it’s hardly worth telling.”
“Well, tell it, anyhow,” said Mrs. Mead
ows.
“Yes,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, “the proof
of the pudding is in chewing the bag.”
“Well,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, ‘as far
back as I can remember, and before that,
too, my mother was a widow, and she had
a great many children to take care of. The
reason she had so many children was be
cause she was poor. I have noticed all my
life that when people are very poor they
happen to have more children than they
know what to do with. This was the way
with my mother. She had a houseful of
children, and she found it a hard matter to
get along.
“One day she went down to the creek to
wash the clothes, such as she and the chil
dren had, and when she got there she found
an old man sitting on the bank. He said
‘Howdy,’ and she said ‘Good morning,’ and
then he asked her if she would be so good as
to wash his coat and his waistcoat. She
said she would be glad to do so, and the old
man said he would be very much obliged.
So my mother washed the coat and waist
coat. Then he asked her if she would comb
his hair for him, and she did so.
“The old man thanked her kindly, and
took from his pocket a string of red beads
and made her a present of them. Then he
told her to go out behind the house when
she got home, and there she’d find a pump
kin tree growing. He said that she must
bury the string of beads at tne foot of the
tree.
“ ‘That’s a pity,’ exclaimed 'my mother;
they are so beautiful.’
‘But the old man declared that she must
do as he said, and after that she was to go
to the pumpkin tree every day and ask for
as many pumpkins as she wanted.
“My mother went home and found the
pumpkin tree where never a tree had been
growing before, and at its roots she buried
the string of beads. Next morning, bright
and early, she went to the pumpkin tree and
called for one pumpkin. Down it dropped
from the tree. For a long time my mother
and her children were happy and growing
fat. Every day a big pumpkin would be
cooked, and, as my mother had to leave us
so as to attend to her w«rk, enough pump
kin would be left in the pot to last us all
day.
“I remember that time very well,” Mr.
Thimblefinger continued, with it sigh, “for
I was getting fat and growing to be almost
as large as the rest ot the children. But
one day, as my ’mother was going out to
work she found a hamper basket on the
gate post, and in that basket was a baby.
So she carried the baby in the house, gave
it something to eat. and then put in on the
floor to play with the rest. But as soon as
she got out of the yard the baby crawled
to the pot where the cooked pumpkin was,
and ate and ate until there was no pump
kin left. Os course, the rest of the children
had to go hungry. And when my mother
came home she had to go hungry, too.
"She was very much surprised. She found
all the pumpkin gone, and the children cry
ing for something to eat, and the stray
baby was crying louder than any. She said
we were the greediest children she had ever
seen.
“The next day she cooked two pumpkins,
but the same thing happened. The baby
went to the pot and ate them all. The
children told her how it happened, but she
wouldn’t believe them. She said she couldn’t
be made to believe that one puny little baby
could eat two whole pumpkins—and it Is
very queer, when you come to think about
it.
“The next day she cooked three pumpkins,
but the same thing happened. Then four,
then five, then six. But it was always the
same. No matter how many pumpkins were
cooked, the stray baby would eat them all
and the rest of the children would have to
go hungry. You see how small I am.” said
iur. Thimblefinger, suddenly pausing in the
thread of his story. “Well, the reason of it
is that I was starved out by that pumpkin
eating baby. My brothers and sisters and
myself were just as large and as healthy
as any other children until that baby was
found on the gate post, and from that day
we began to dwindle and shrink away.
“Well, we starved and starved until at
last my mother could very P lj L inly see * ha *
something was the matter So she set a
trap for the baby and baited it with pu p
kins. She hadn’t got out of hearing b.efore
the baby put his head in the pot sat
caught in the trap. It stayed there all d. J ,
ana when mother came home at
found it there. She was very ” ur ’
prised, but she saw she must get rid °
baby. She said that any creature. that could
manage to eat like that was able to take
care of itself, and so she carried it oft down
the road and left it there. .
“New this baby was a witch baby, and as
soon as it thought my mother was out of
sight and hearing it changed itself into a
tali, heavy man.” >t
“ 'Twuz feedin’ de big man all de time,
exclaimed Drusilla.
“Certainly,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger.
“My mother was watching it, and she fol
lowed to see where it would go. It went
down to the bank of the river. There it
found the old man who had given my moth
er the string of beads, and asked him for
something to eat. ~
“ Comb iny hair lor me,’ said the old
it refused, and then the old man told
it to go to the pumpkin tree and ask for
twenty pumpkins. The greedy thing was
glad to do this. It went to the tree and
called for twenty pumpkins, and down they
fell on its head.” ,
“What then?” asked Buster John, as Mr.
Thimblefinger paused. “Was it hurt?”
“Smashed! ' exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger.
“Knocked flatter than a pancake! Broke
into jiblets!” „
“It was a great waste of pumpkins, re
marked Mrs. ?4eadows.
(To be continued.)
Leads the World
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