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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 let ter-writing.)
"THEM'S MY SENTIMENTS.”
Though o’er the pathway of my life some
adverse winds may blow.
Let me not call this world a howling wil
derness of woe,
But turn my back upon the storm, and look
with thankful eyes
To the beauty of the landscape, and the
glory of the skies.
Should melancholy's coffin-face come gib
bering to my door,
I’ll stare him out of countenance, and set
him in a roar.
Till the sound of merry laughter fills the
surrounding air.
And joy’s sweet roses blossom from the
barren grave of care.
If from the swamps of selfishness a chill-
• ing mist is sent,
Fraught with the dread malaria of chronic
discontent,
I’ll climb the airy heights of love to labor
there awhile.
And scatter the infection with the sunshine
of a smile.
And when life’s evening shadows fall, if I
can only know
That I have carved one smile upon the pal
lid lips of woe.
I’ll thank the merry Gods of mirth, and
with expiring breath,
Waft the world my good-night kisses while
I shake the hand of death.
L. P. HILLS.
Plunkett to the Children.
It is easy enough to hear of some sweet
Character of the female sex, but it is sel
dom we hear men praised till after they
are dead—why not?
Every little fellow has some one in mind
whom he has learned to love from watch
ing or hearing of their lovely traits of
character. If we ■were to ask the little
readers to state the man they loved the
most—of course, outside of kindred—there
would be a general” jumping up to call the
names of old preachers, old teachers, old
doctors, old merchants, old farmers, old
lawyers, old editors —every calling of life
would have sounded the name of some
lovely character. The world is not so bad
if we seek out the good.
Necessarily, the name of one of these
lovely characters must be called in what is
to follow, and so sure am I of the feel
ings of the people, little and big, that
I know’ every heart wdll answer ’’yes’"
when I mention the loveliest of them all-
Dr. A. W. Calhoun, the healer of the
blind.
It is of a patient of this good doctor I
wish to write you—a little blind boy once,
but now, with sight restored, he works
upon the farm close to me to help along
a dear mother who led and lever tired for
him in the days of his affliction.
Little John—that is the blind boy’s name—
had never looked upon his mother’s face.
He had never seen the green woods, the
blue sky, the birds, nor the flowers. He
had heard things called ugly and things
called pretty, but he knew nothing of cod
ers or hues, of forms or deformities. His
“feel” was very sensitive and the only
eyes he had. He knew a tender touch
and loved the sound of kind words, and
these he came to associate as things of
beauty—as “pretty things.” In his blind
condition his mother was the tenderest,
and, therefore, she was the prettiest thing
on earth to little John. For hQurs he loved
to sit upon that mother’s lap and run his
fingers over her face. Her face was a
thing of beauty with him, and he could
trace every wrinkle, place every freckle
and feast upon its beauty in his mind.
The fact of the case was that little John's
mother was not "pretty;” she was old,
and hard work and time and sorrow had
taken the bloom from her form, the bright
ness from her eye. She knew this, and
when Dr. Calhoun announced that he would
have little John seeing upon the next week,
something of a pang came to the mother’s
heart that her son would not find her the
“pretty thing” he had pictured in his
mind.
For the last week of John’s blindness,
all the talk had been of "seeing.” He
wanted to see his mother the first thing,
then Dr. C.^ioun —for the doctor had been
kind and tender and won the little fellow’s
heart—the doctor was “pretty,” too. Then
he was going to stroll through the woods
without being led; he was going down and
watch the water he had so often heard
rumble over the little shoal at his mother's
“wash place;” he was to count ail the
stars and look upon the silvery moon—a
thousand things little John would talk of
seeing, but he must see his mother first.
The day came for the blind boy to be car
ried to Atlanta to have the black bandage ta
ken from his eyes. Some of the neighbors
went along—one a “real” pretty young lady,
whom the mother of John had intended to
substitute for herself in the boy’s first
“sight.” At the office of Dr. Calhoun the
mother was pursuaded out of this decep
tion. The good doctor’s lovely wife joined
In persuading, and carried the mother to
her own room and helped to improve her
looks.
At last the doctor took the blind boy’s
hand and led him into a dark room. After
jome training, the supreme moment had
arrived—John was to see. The mother was
called. Dr. Calhoun placed her in front
of her son and then stood behind his pa
tient’s chair and raised the black bandage.
• * * ♦ * * • * *
John is a strong plowboy now, and has
Been the beauties of the world, but he says
that every wrinkle upon his mother’s face
is just as dear and that she is still to him
the prettiest and the sweetest thing of all
the earth. Sarge Plunkett.
YOUNG FOLK’S CORRESPONDENCE.
Letters «>f Exchaiif a Among The Consti
tution’* Lit t iel’ol ks.
Stella Lavender, Barnesville, Ga.—l’lease, may I
come in for a little summer gab? I would think
it very merry. lam a school girl and glory in at
tending. but will glory more when I am ready to
sing ho! lor vacation’s joys.
Gordon institute graces the bonny city of
Barne.-ville, which by the way nestles among the
red old hills of mid lie Georgia, and is a fir.-t class
school in all respects. Has an attendance of over
two hundred and titty boys and Arty boysand
gins, with a faculty of twelve. One splendid fea
ture that it posses is a military department, which
is one of the largest cadet battalions in the sout h.
1. like most of von, love all things literay, books
of history and poetry being n.y favorite reading.
I love to scribble, too, and just mean some day to
be the most (inconspicuous bit ot a writer.
I join the < horns of “why don’t the boys write
more.’’ How they could interest us about their
farms, schools and sports.
Would any one like to correspond with a
Barnesville lasso?
Ida May Klarff. Lumber Bridge, N C.—Delays
are dangerous so I have always heard, and this
lovely afternoon I decided I would no longer de
lay but come at once and join this happy circle
despite the yeilow flies and warm weather which
is showering upon us in this part of the Old North
St Giris, I think we can get ahead of the bovs if we
will just brighten up a little. Better make use of
this opportunity. We may some day be invited
, o, Su ; £ l i»“ SR, -Boy Aft.,.; O, <|» fflnsr-
I think some girl has captivated that boy, and lie
is ashamed to write any more. lam j’-ippy. to say
I have never met a boy who was afraid ol the girls.
I imagine they would be hard to tame.
Aunt Susie, I spent last summer in your state,
and oh! I had such a jolly time. W ould that 1
could spend a lew months there this hummel, but
since I cannot I will stay at home and enjoy the
duties and pleasures I find here.
It wiil never do lor me to make my letter so
long and tiresome, so goodby till 1 come again.
Willie Wall, Lawrenceville, Ga.—l write to ask
vou to please to let one more little boy to have a
place in your happy circle, lam a little mother
jess boy twelve years old. 1 have a pa; be went
west four years ago. He left me with my uncle. 1
have not heard from him in two years. When last
heard fftmi he was in Mississippi; please help me
to hoar from him; hisn.inv’is William W all. \ou
or any 01 the cousins will greatly oblige me.
Grandma takes The Constitution.
Emma Jackson. Lost Mountain, Ga.—l have been
a silent admirer of The Constitution for some
time, but never attempted to write until now. My
papa has been taking 'Ute Constitution ever since
1 can remember, and it a splendid paper.
1 live on a farm near the loot of Lost Mountain.
lam a country girl and like to live in the coun
try. 1 will answer Kate Bowles’ conundrum :
The three authors-you would feel inclined to
name would be Dick ns, Howitt, Burns.
I wiil also answer one of “E. L. C.’s” questions:
It was Ponce de Leon who went in search of the
fountain of youth.
Leia E. McKenzie, Beeville, Texas.—l have been
a silent admirer of the Young Folks’ Co: ner, since
the first of May. I love so well toread the cous
ins’ letters that I thought I wouldwrite one, too.
My home has been in Beeville since December?,
1892, until about three weeks ago. we moved out
two miles from town on a little place papa had
purchased and had a house built on. Ou r house
is not finished, but will be this week all but paint
ing. Louisiana is our native state.
1 like Texas very well, but of course one always
has a tender feeling lor the old home.
1 will answer some questions seen in papers:
A fish feels cold because it has cold blood.
The honey comb is a substance which grows on
the under part of the bee.
Lawrence’s last words were, “Don’t give up the
ship.”
“Who run? Do they already? Then I die hap
py.” were Wolfe’s last words.
Corresponden ts solicited.
Will C. Henry, Shelby, N. C._As I see letters
from invalids in The Constitution sometimes, I
thought I would write to the cousins, being an in
valid for over two years, not being able to sit up
or walk. I have to write lying on my left side.
My mother is also an invalid. We spend a part of
our time reading when not suffering too much.
We like The Const’tution very much. I certain
ly do sympathize with al! who are afflicted and
have to be confined. 1 hope little Edna Brower
will soon be well. I think, cousins, you ought all
try to help tier. I know all of you can send her
stamps, which seem small to you but will help her
a great deal. I would help her if I could.
Cousins, if any of you, or any one who read my
letter, wish to and can, will send us some old pa
pers, or anything to read to help pass the long, hot
and weary summer days, will be thankfully re
ceived . We r ad most anything; 1 like politics,
and am a democrat.
If my letter does not find the waste basket,’l
will try some time in the future to thank all who
send u’s something to read, or write to me, by
writing again in The Constitution.
May it live long and do much good for the peo
ple in the stand which it takes for their good.
Emma M. Huff, Bonita, La.—l have long been a
silent admirer of the Young Folks’ Corner, but
have just gained courage to write a letter.
lam now enjoying vacation. If we don’t mind
the boys will get ahead of us in letter writing. I
have no pets but my books
Have any of the cousins ever taken Faust? I
have for one.
I will au-wcr Edward Fisher’s question: “Don’t
give up the ship,” were the dying words of Cap
tain Lawrence.
Nova Scotia was called Arcadia, before it was ta
ken from the French.
Do any of thecous ns like to fish and ride horse
back? i do. I like to read tne letters from Aunt
Susie, Sarge I’mnkctt, Bill Arp and Talmage.
1 live in the country’. I like history better than
any of my studies. I enjoy reading Berta Smith's
letters very much. We had a splendid teacher
th s session.
I will close by asking a few questions:
How old was Louis Kossuth?
Who wrote the history of Louisiana?
Who was called -‘Fighting Joe?’’
In what ship did Mason and Slidell run the
blockade?”
Correspondents solicited. Age thirteen,
Willie and Adalia McLean, Age 12 and 10, Wills
Point, Texas.- We have come to tell you about our
our beautiful country. We arrived in Texas in
November; found ad plants perfectly’, and the
rose hushes had buus in January, when till the
plants were killed, buttliey have been blooming
since March. 1 wish w<- could send Aunt Susie a
bouquet as we have thirty different kinds. 1 think
likely you have never seen so many different kinds
in biooin at the same time.
Our prairies are beautiful, t he grasses arc green
the year round, and it is covered all summer with
the most beautiful flowers of all sizes and colors.
O, we have so many beautiful birds. I think the
tire bird the prettiest; it has three colors arranged
in broad stripes, blue, green and red; it builds in
small flower bushes. The next is spotted canary,
the male is black and dark red, while the female
is yellow and fawn, about the size of the little ca
naries we buv the markets and sing as sweetly.
1 notice a fit tie English sparrow, except it is
not so plump; they build in our vegetables; we
have two nests in the bean vines and one in the
irish potatoes. Mocking birds are very plentiful;
also larks and doves.
We see so manv nice birds of every kind here,
that we have decided tiiat the Texas 'boys are not
so cruel to little birds as tin 1 boys in our oio state,
Georgia, or it may bv that rocks are not so plenti
ful, as it is more fun for them to kill the large
rabbits of which the country is full. We have
killed several ol the large eared kind that were
very large, and the ears were as long as my hand
ami two inches and a half wide . We catch the
young ones and keep them several at a time; they
are so easy tamed.
You can see a full grown one a quarter of a mile
away, if ihc grass is not too high.
We help our mamma cook, wash, and do all
Kinds of house work.
We wish Aunt Susie and the cousins had some
of our nice trait as ours was riot killed.
Maud M. and Eva J. Rice, Almon, Ga.—We are
two sisters; Maud is Eva’s pet, and Eva is Maud’s
pet, and we think a great deal ol each other. We
both wrote a letter apiece some time ago lor the
Young Folks' Corner, and ns neither has been
published, we have concluded that both are in the
waste basket, and thought it would never do to
write any more.
But some questions came out in the last, number
wh eh we desire to answer, and we thought we
would put our heads together this time, and try to
fix up a letter that wotnd not go to the waste bas
ket, as two head.- are better th in ore, if one is a
goat’s head. First, we will answer Ira IJ. Duduey’s
question: *
In the year 1752, the English reformed the cal
endar by taking elt ven day.-, from September, call
ing the third of that month, the fourteenth. This
madet.be twemy-filth of December (Christmas)
following come eleven days sooner, and if the-e
eieven days had not been taken from September,
what w ■ now call January’ sth would have been
calico D cembcr 25th (Christmas.) Hence, Janua
ry sth is c tiled old Christmas.
Jo.-ie Bost’s question : The last words of Gen
eral Wolfe were: “Now God be praised, I die
happy.”
Cora Belle Galliher’s question : Moses was called
Moses because he was drawn out of the water, as
Moses means taken out of the water.
Olga McDuffie’s quest ion : The stamp act was
passed March 8, 17(15, on Friday.
The Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, Mass., De
cember 22. 11120, on Friday’.
Columbus first landed on the island of Hayti,
October 12. 1492, on Friday.
Robert Sidney Ileggie’s question: The eyelid
forms a curtain.
Ben Galliher’s question: A rabbit is smaller
than a hare.
Now, we will ask some questions:
Who preached the first funeral sermon?
Who was Atys?
Which is the largest river in the world?
What language is the following sentence in?
“Denn meine seliafe haven meine stimme und ich
kenne sie, und sie bolgen mir.”
Translate tlie above sentence into English, and
point out and correct the error, in language, in
the last question, and give the rule for the correc
tion.
THB WEEKLY CONSTITUTION; ATLANTA. GA., MONDAY. -JULY 16.
LITTLE MR. THIMBLEFINGER
And His Queer Country—What the Children Saw and Hear
1 There.
By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS, (Author of “Uncle Remni.”)
Copyrighted, 1894, by the Author.
Just then Mrs. Meadows smoothed out her
apron and rose from her chair.
“I smell dinner,” she said, “and It smells
like it is on the table. Let’s go in and get
rid of it.”
She led the way -and the children fol
lowed. The dinner was nothing extra—just
a plain, every-day, country dinner, with
plenty of pot liquor and dumplings; but
the children were hungry, and they made
short work of all that was placed before
them. Drusilla waited on the table, as
she did at home, but she didn’t go close to
Mr. Rabbit. She held out the dishes at
arm’s length when she offered him any
thing, and once she came very near drop
ping a plate when he suddenly flapped his
big ear on his nose to drive off a fly.
Mrs. Meadows was very kind to the
children, but when once the edge was taken
off their appetite they began to get un
easy again. There was a thousand ques
tions they might have asked, but they had
been told never to ask questions in com
pany. Mr. Thimblefinger, who had a keen
eye for such things, noticed that they
were beginning to get glum and dissatis
fied, and so he said with a laugh:
“I’ve often heard in my travels of chil
dren who talked too much, but these don’t
talk at all.”
"Oh, they’ll soon get over that,” Mrs.
Meadows remarked. “Everything is so
strange here, they don’t know what to
make of it. When I was a little bit of a
thing my ma used to take me to quiltings,
and I know it took me the longest kind
of a time to get used to the strangers and
all.”
"This isn’t a quilting,” said Sweetest
Susan, with a sigh; “I wish it was.”
"I don’t!” exclaimed Buster John,
plumply.
"Once when I was listening through a key
hole,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, placing his
tiny knife and fork crosswise on his plate,
"I heard a story about a Talking Saddle.”
"Tell it! tell it!” cried Buster John and
Sweetest Susan.
"I suppose you have no pie today,” said
Mr. Rabbit.
"Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Meadows, “we’U
have the pie and the story, too.”
Mr. Thimblefinger smacked his lips and
winked his eye in such comical fashion tiiat
the children laughed heartily, but they
didn’t forget the story.
“I don’t know that I can remember the
best oi it,” said Mr. Thimblefinger. “The
wind was blowing and the keyhole was
trying to learn how to whistle, and 1 may
have missed some of the story. But it was
such a queer one and 1 was listening so
closely that I came very near falling off
the door knob when some one started to
come out. I think we’d better eat our pie
first. I might get one of those huckleberries
in my throat while talking, and there’s
no doctor close at hand to keep me from
choking to death.”
So they ate their huckleberry pie, and
then Mr. Thimblefinger told the story.
"Once upon a time a farmer had five
sons. He was not rich and he was not
poor. He had some land and he had little
money. He divided his land equally among
his four oldest sons, giving each just as
much as he could till. To each, he also
gave a piece of money. Then he called
his youngest son and said:
“ ‘You have sharp eyes and a keen wit.
You want no land. All you need is a sad
dle. That I will give you.’
" ‘A saddle! What will I do with a sad
dle?’ asked the younger son, whose name
was Tip-Top.
“ ‘Make your fortune with it.’
“ ‘lf I had a horse —’
“ ‘A head is better than a horse,’ the
father replied.
"Not iong after the old man died. The
Lind was divided up among the four older
sens, and Tip-Top was left with the sad
dle. He slung it on his back and set out
to make his fortune. It was not long be
lt re he came to a large town. He rested
for awhile and then he went into the town.
He lemembc-red that his father had said
a head was better than a horse, so, instead
of carrying the saddle on his back, he
put it on his head. At first the people
thought he was carrying the saddle be
cause he hid sold his horse for a good
price, or because the animal had died. But
he went through street after street still
carrying the saddle on his head, never
pausing to look around or to speak to any
body, and at last the people began to won
der. Some said he was a simpleton, some
said he wat> saddle maker advertising
his wares, and some said he was a tramp
who ought to be arrested and put in the
werkhouse.
“This talk finally reached the ears of the
mayor of the town, and he sent for Tip Top
to appear before him.”
“What is a mayor?” asked Sweetest Su
san, suddenly.
“He de head patter-roller,” said Drusilla,
befcre anybody else could reply.
“That’s about right,” Mr. Thimblefinger
declared. “Well, the mayor sent for Tip
Top. But instead of going to the place
where the mayor held his court, Tip Top
inquired where his house was and went
there. Now, when Tip-Top knocked at the
mayor’s door the servant, seeing the man
with a saddle on his head, began to rail
at him.
“ ‘Do you think the mayor keeps his har
ness in the parlor? Go in the side gate
and carry the saddle in the cellar where
it belongs. Hang it on the first peg you
Se "Tip-Top tried to say something, but
the servant shut the door with a bang.
Then Tip-Top went as he was bid. He went
through the side gate, and found the cellar
JJL
Os
A FxmZWa
Al
What Does the Saddle Say? Asked the Major.
without any trouble, but instead of hanging
the saddle on a peg, he placed it on the
floor and sat on it.
“After waiting patiently awhile, wonder
ing when the mayor would call him, Tip-
Top heard voices on the other side of the
wall. He listened closely, and soon found
that the housemaid who had driven him
away from the mayor's door was talking
to her brother, who had just returned from
a long journey.
“ ‘The mayor has gold,’ said the brother.
‘You must tell me where he keeps it. 1
have a companion in my travels, and to
night we shall come and take the treas
ure.’
“For a long time the housemaid refused
to tell where the mayor kept his gold, but
the brother threatened and coaxed, and
finally she told him where the treasure
lay.
“ ‘lt is in a closet by the chimney in the
first room to the right at the head of the
stairs. The gold is in an iron box and it is
very heavy.’
“ ‘My companion has dong nair and a
strong arm,’ said the brother. ‘He is cross
eyed and knockkneed. It wouldn’t do for
you to meet him in the hallway. Go to bed
early and lock your door, and if you hear
any outcry during tiie night cover yeur
head with a pillow and go to sleep again.’
“Then the housemaid and her brother
went away.
“ ‘Well,’ said Tip-Top, ‘this is no place for
me.’
“He waited awhile and then went out of
the cellar into the yard with his saddle on
his head. The cook, seeing him there, told
him to carry the saddle to the stable where
the horses were kept. Tip-Top went to the
stable, placed his saddle in an empty stall
and sat on it.
“After awhile ihe heard two persons come
in frem the street. They went into a stall
near by and began to talk. One was the
coachman and the other was his nephew
| who had just returned from a long jour-
I ney.
“ 'The mayor has fine horses,’ said the
nephew. ‘I must have two of them tonight,
otherwise I am ruined forever.’
“The coachman refused to listen at first,
, but after awhile he consented. He told his
nephew that the stable bo<y slept in the
irenger.
“‘1 have a companion in my travels,
said his nephew, ‘and tonight we will come
and take the horses away. My companion
i has short hair and a heavy hand. Close
your eyes and cover your head with straw
if you hear any outcry.’
“After awhile the coachman and his
nephew went out into the street again, and
then Tip-Top came forth from the stable
with the saddle on his head. The mayor
had just come in, and was standing at his
1 window. He saw the man in the yard with
the saddle on his head, and sent a servant
to call him.
“ ‘What is your name?’ asked the mayor.
“ ‘Tip-Top, your honor.’
“ ‘1 didn’t ask after your health; I asked
for your name,’ said the mayor.
“ ‘lt is tip-top, your honor.’
“ ‘Your name or your health?’
“ ‘Both, your honor.’
“ ‘What are you doing here?’
“ ‘His honor, the mayor, sent for me,
your honor.’
‘What were you doing just now?’
“ ‘Waiting to be sent for, your honor.’
" ‘Where is your horse?’ asked the mayor.
“ ‘I have no horse, your honor.’
“ ‘Why do you carry your saddle?’
“ ‘Because no one will carry it for me,
your honor.’
“ ‘Why do you not sell it and be rid of it,
ninny?’
“ ‘Few are rich enough to buy it, your
honor.’
“ ‘How much money is it worth?’
“ ‘Two thousand pieces of gold, your
honor.'
“ ‘Are you crazy?’ cried the mayor. ‘Why
is it so valuable?’
“ ‘lt is a talking saddle, your honor.’
“ ‘What does it say?’
“ ‘Everything, your honor. It warns, it
predicts and it gives advice.’
“ ‘Let it talk for me,’ said the mayor,
full of curiosity.
“ ‘Your honor would fail to understand
its language,’ replied Tip-Top.
“ ‘Let it talk, and do you tell me what it
says.’
“Tip-Top placed his saddle on the carpet
and pressed his foot against it until the
leather made a creaking noise.
“ 'I am waiting,’ said the mayor. ‘What
does the saddle say?’
“ ‘lt says, your honor, that you must call
the housemaid.’
“The mayor, to humor the joke, did so.
The housemaid came, grumbling. She
looked at the saddle, at Tip-Top and then
at the mayor.
“ ‘Now what does the saddle say?’ asked
the mayor.
“ ‘lt says, your honor, that this woman
has a brother, who has just returned from,
a journey in strange lands. The saddle
says, your honor, that this woman’s
brother has a companion who has long hair
and a strong arm.’
“ ‘ls that all?’ asked the mayor.
" ‘No, your honor, it is not half.’
“ ‘lt is very strange,’ said the housemaid.
“ ‘The saddle says, your honor, that if
you will sit in the closet by the chimney,
in the first room to the right, where there
is an iron box that is very heavy, you vyill
receive a visit tonight from this woman’s
brother and his companion.’
“The mayor was very much astonished,
but before he could open his lips the woman
fell on her knees and confessed all. The
mayor called an officer and sent her away.
Then he turned to Tip-Top and asked:
“ ‘ls that all?”
“ ‘By no means, your honor. The saddle
says send for the coachman.’
“The mayor did so, and the coachman
came bowing and smiling.
“‘How much is your saddle worth?’ the
mayor asked him.
" ‘Master, it is worthless, replied the
coachman, with' a sneer.
“ ‘Let us see,’ said the mayor. Then,
turning to Tip-Top: ‘What does the saddle
“ ‘lt says, your honor, that this coach
man here has a nephew, who has just re
turned from a long journey. It says that
the nephew has a companion who has
short hair and a heavy hand.
“ ‘What more?’
" ‘The saddle says, your honor, that it
you will sleep in the manger where your
two finest herses feed, you will receive; a
visit from the coachman’s nephew and his
traveling companion.’ t
“The coachman implored his master s mer
cy and told all. Os course, the mayor was
very much astonished. He turned his un
faithful servants over to an officer, an
that night had a watch set arou "/*
house and stable and caught! the thieves
and their companions.
“But the saddle didn't talk.” said Sweet
est Susan. “So the man didn’t tell what
was true.” She made this remark with so
much dignity that Mrs. Meadows laughed.
But Buster John was quite impatient.
"This ain’t a girl’s story,” he exclaimed.
“Oh, yes,” replied Mrs. Meadows. It is
for girls as well as boys. Sometimes peop e
tell stories just to pass the time away, and
if the stories have little fibs in ’em, that
don’t do anybody any harm. They jus
keep them in there. 1- they didn t the
story wouldn’t be true. '
“Is that the end of the story of the T ant
ing Saddle?” asked Buster John.
“No! Oh, no!” Mr. Thimblefinger answer
ed. “I was just going to tell you the rest.
But before he could go on with it the
noise of laughter was heard at the door,
and then there came running -in a queer
looking girl and a very queer looking boy.
(To be continued.)
My Visit to Edith.
I was a little girl ten years old at the
time that my mother took brother Harry
and I to visit during the hot summer at the
seashore. We stopped in a great large hotel
with slanting roofs and gables all painted
red. Before was the broad ocean, while
behind the hotel there stood a row of high
hills-
One morning, leaving Harry behind with
the maid, mother took me for a ride around
the mountain and we came to a pretty farm
house, built conveniently near a beautiful
stream of clear, cool water. I begged
mamma to stop because I was so thirsty. A
little bare-footed girl in a clean, blue dress
opened the door. When we looked in it
seemed as if we were looking right straight
at a picture, for I never saw such things
before except in pictures.
There was a rosy-cheeked young woman
sewing on an old-fashioned machine and
behind her there were open shelves full of
bright tins and blue-edged dishes. In an
adjoining room another young woman was
spinning wool on a spinning wheel.
The lady let us come in and watch her.
She walked back and forth, holding the
wool in one hand while she turned the
wheel with the other, and the wool kept
spinning out to a fine thread and winding
around a little iron point in a cove-shaped
ball.
By and by the woman said: “Would you
like to spin, little girl?”
I was delighted, for it looked so easy,
and I longed to try, but do you know the
minute I took the wool and began it all
ran up in great coarse bunches and then
it snapped off short. I felt very much
ashamed, but the woman only laughed and
said: “I guess you had better go and play
with Edith while your mamma rests.”
Edith was the little bare-footed girl and
she had a sweet, gentle face and light
flaxen hair. We went out on a rock near
the creek and cracked butternuts, and then
a man came out of a barn and looked at
me as if he wondered who I was.
“This is the little gal that’s come to
play with me, pop,” said Edith; so he said
it was all right and went back into the
barn.
After we had played together awhile
mamma called me, but I told Edith that
I would come to see her again some day
and bring my brother Harry, for I knew
that he liked butternuts.
The next day Harry and I took a walk
all by ourselves to visit Edith.
She was younger than we—not more than
seven years old, but it was pleasant to go
there to play and crack butternuts.
This time I carried her a very pretty
picture card, a sort of valentine, with a
chubby little winged cupid on it. I expected
Edith to admire it, but instead of that she
said:
”Oh. shame! I’d go and dress me, wouldn’t
you?”
We went down to the brook, which was
not very wide, but was pretty deep in
some places, and the stones and sand
had a golden red look under the water.
It looked like a very .safe place to go
sailing, because the banks were so close
on each side
“Let’s find something for a boat, Edith,
I said, “and then we can sail.”
"Oh, I don’t dast!” she exclaimed, but,
finally, when I found an old barrel that I
thought would do, she agreed to let me go
into it and said she would walk along the
bank by me to see me sail.
The barrel floated and did not tip much,
so 1 climbed carefully in while Edith held
it for me. „
“Now, let go,” I said, all ready to paddle.
And, don’t you know, the minute she
let co the barrel pitched right over and
was'half full of water before 1 could jump
anywhere. I felt as if I was sinking, sink
ing away down and the water splashed me
arid took my breath away.
Little Edith leaned over towards me and
caught one of my hands, holding it tight,
while she screamed with all her might,
“Come, boy! Come quick, boy! Nellie s m
the water.
Harry heard her and ran swiftly to us.
He pulled me out and I was dripping wet.
The water went chush, chush in my
sleeves when I walked, but I begged Hai
ry and Edith not to scold me.
■So they helped me back to the red farm
house and then Harry went to the hotel to
tell mamma, but Edith’s folks kept
’till after dinner and dried all my things, t
was wrapped up in a shawl and know that
I had a beautiful visit.
Edith’s mamma and sister had cooked a
boiled dinner, and one thing is odd, I think—
I never coud eat turnips before, but I
learned to like them that day. I did not
want to leave a turnip untasted on my
nlate when I was company, so I just made
my mind up firm and ate it up. Now I
like turnips very well.
Before mamma and Harry and I returned
home we visited Edith very often, but 1
kept my promise to my mother and never
attempted to sail any more.
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